


Call and Harbor

by Anonymous



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Group Sex, Holodecks/Holosuites, M/M, Multi, Office Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Quickies, Safer Sex, Shower Sex, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There are places to stop, and places to call home.  Sometimes people.  A story about the home Julian and Kira make with the O'Briens, and how this ripples through the rest of the station.(for those who have read my piece 'Heliocentric', this is that but much better and done properly and with Intimacy, so.)For the DS9 Discord Kink Bingo!





	1. Honeypot Missions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShevatheGun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShevatheGun/gifts).



> for the prompt 'honeypot missions'
> 
> also for Sheva and tbh that whole group for inspiring me and giving adorable input throughout my process <3

Julian looked at the cricket score as it ticked by, worrying he had already closed too many numbers to make a convincing show of backing down and losing.  It was not fair, really, for the obvious reason, _and_ because he and Miles had taken to using darts to make their decisions, to arrange their calendar for the week.  The winner was granted his choice of location for dinner, freedom of responsibility for the bar tab, and first look at the catalogue of newly-released holoprograms Quark kept on hand _specifically_ for them.  Having gotten a bit excited - mostly at the posters that arrived to accompany the program designs - Julian _had_ won their games for the previous three weeks.  So, he held his arm too low, curled his wrist too dramatically, and landed his dart just slightly left of where he needed to hit.  

“Hmm,” Miles chuckled dryly but good-naturedly, and approached the line on the floor.

“Must’ve been that… tracheostomy this morning,” Julian replied, favoring his dominant wrist and massaging it inside his other hand.  

“Shame,” said Miles, proceeding to sink the last double he needed.

They looked at each other, and Julian cleared his throat.

“Well, that’s… that’s game,” he said.

“I know that,” Miles said.  The silence had not been very long, but they were well-rehearsed at making themselves uncomfortable. “I was thinking about getting another pint, that’s all.”

Julian grinned, feeling both sly and successful, and offered to go get this from the bar.

Meanwhile, Miles watched him go, and thought about how many years it had taken him to get to this point.  Not just _winning_ \- he did that with acceptable frequency - but _finally_ reaching a point to deliver on a promise to Keiko.

When they first moved to the station - ‘before Julian opened his mouth,’ as Miles separated the time periods - Keiko had freely admitted that Julian was handsome, intriguing, and worthy of an _invitation_.  It was not uncommon for the couple to welcome mutual friends, but Miles had been hesitant about approaching another man with the question.

“Oh, _Miles_ ,” Keiko had teased him over it, fondly, “you worry too much.  You’re my _husband_.”

“I don’t think I’d be jealous,” he immediately retorted, but Keiko raised her brows and tightened her smile and said ‘sure.’

Julian nudged his elbow and offered him his drink.

“ _So_ ,” Julian said, knowing not to expect an answer until Miles had taken a good swig, “what’s on the agenda for this week, then?”

“I’ll have to take a look…”

Miles called for Quark, and flipped absentmindedly through the digital pages of the catalogue, still thinking of Keiko.  If both men knew how the other was _performing_ , it would have saved them a lot of trouble.

Keiko knew.

“Just get one of those spy programs,” she had insisted, as she and Miles finalized the invitation for _certain_ , “Do something he _likes_ , get him in the _mood_ , and then just _ask him."_

“Why don’t _you_?”

“He’s _your_ friend, Miles.  And I’ve _tried_.”

True, Miles had sat through enough strange dinners between the two of them to believe that.  With Keiko on one shoulder, passing around exotic dishes of Julian’s _favorites_ , and Julian to the other side, polite and oblivious, he did not know what to think.  These nights invariably ended with Keiko beginning to finalize the question - ‘do you want to stay the night, Julian?’ - until Miles stood suddenly and coughed over her, and pulled her aside to warn her that Julian _clearly_ misunderstood him, earlier.

“Err, Chief?  Dinner?” Julian suggested, watching carefully.  

Miles held up his hand and took another swallow before obliging, and wondering just how obvious he needed be.

“There,” Miles said, _knowing_ he was being too vague, and that it would be Keiko’s problem to deal with.  He was drilling his fingernail into the advertisement for ‘one of those spy programs,’ and Julian oversaw him curiously.

“All right.  Are you… are you sure?”

“Well, dinner _first_ ,” Miles said, “Sure.  Why not?”

***

Julian was scheduled to have lunch with Garak that day, and arrived a few minutes early - Garak was already there, but that was another argument altogether - so he would be hungry again in time for his dinner with Miles.  This was an exciting day, and when he told Garak as much, he did not get matched anticipation, but instead a series of accusations.

“But the two of you run programs together all the _time_ ,” drawled Garak, very poorly concealing his envy.  Very poorly to anyone but Julian, who was so utterly stuck on hearing Garak say something _true_ that the intonation went over his head.

“Yes but it’s… it’s one of _mine_ ,” he whispered the last part, delighted.  “He tends to prefer the more militaristic one, but it’s… he’s picked out a spy one for us.”

“Has he,” said Garak, flatly.

“Not one I designed, either.  It’s a generic one Quark ordered, and I’ve been reading the summary, and--”

“Ah.  I _see_.”

“See what?”

Stealing Bashir’s traditional smug expression, Garak leaned forward in his seat and stirred his juice, intentionally clacking the spoon against the rim to keep Julian distracted.

“Do you… perhaps owe him a _favor_?” Garak asked, “Or is there something you’ve _forgotten_ to do for him?”

“No, I--”

“I suppose you’ll find out tonight.  But it’s clear he has some, as you’re so fond of saying, _ulterior_ motive.”

“It isn’t clear at all, because it isn’t true.”

“Oh, it _is_.  It’s the oldest method I’m aware of.  He’s going to seduce you to ensure your cooperation.  I’ve done it a _dozen_ times.”

“That’s _ridiculous_.”

Garak clicked his tongue, now, in syncopated conjunction with the spoon, and observed Julian’s internal struggle.

“We do this _all the time_ ,” Julian repeated, “as _you’re_ so fond of saying.  And it’s just for _fun_.”

“Hmm,” Garak smiled to himself.  “It can be fun, yes. Also terribly messy, and inconvenient.”

They finished their meals in virtual silence, aside from the _click-click, click-click_ of Garak’s stirring, and Julian failed to relax.

“Miles wouldn’t do that,” Julian insisted, as he prepared to leave.

***

“I can’t do _that_ ,” Miles wailed to Keiko, as she helped him sort through potential costumes, “that’s… he’s not gonna believe that for a second.”

Keiko shrugged and loosened the knot Miles perpetually kept his only necktie in, just enough to slip the loop over his collar without choking him.  She tightened it again as she spoke, and he stared down in surprise.

“Maybe you just need to be a little rougher with him,” she illustrated, stopping with the fabric taut against his throat before relaxing it again.  

“No, no.  He doesn’t like that.”

“Oh?”

“God, Keiko.  You’ve _met him_.  He might not be _quiet_ , exactly, but he’s a reserved kind’a guy.”

“I _thought_ you two had something in common,” she smirked, then patted her husband’s shoulder to signify that her work was done.  “There.”

Miles winced at the sight of himself in the mirror, when Keiko stepped aside and allowed him to see.  He smoothed down the side panels of his jacket, wrinkled and disfigured from living the vast majority of its life in a trunk, and fiddled nervously with the bottom button, deciding to leave it undone for the sake of both propriety and his own comfort.  Garak had made the slacks, and Miles had never taken them back in for alteration, fearing any time alone under Garak’s observation and free-reign of movement with a pair of _shears_ in one hand and a plate of _pins_ in the other, and...

“It looks _fine_ , Miles,” Keiko caught up to his thoughts even before he voiced them, and he was thankful.  “And you look _great_ in it.  Wait ‘til he sees you!”

“Uh huh.”

Internally, Julian’s reaction was almost identical, even though all he managed to outwardly display was a more-serious-than-usual smile, and a quiet ‘oh, that’s a nice suit…’

“You ready?” Miles asked, extending his hand for a polite and contractually-binding handshake, which Julian took without seeking further clarification.

“Yeah, all read up,” he said bashfully.  Despite his best efforts, he could not completely detach Garak’s assessment from their current situation.  “Should be fun!”

He took his place in the holographic office, dimming the lamp on his character’s desk and turning the oversized bergere chair around and reclining into the soft cushion of it.  According to the program prompt, he was meant to be suffering through a long night of reading at his desk, which was something Julian did often enough in the Infirmary, before being interrupted by one of his aides with new intel.  The prompt also placed Miles as an agent for an entirely different agency, and of _course_ Julian had read enough spy novels to know this did not necessarily rule out a seduction, but he was determined to deny Garak that satisfaction, if nothing else.  Or, he could be cautious, and his night would be _ruined_ , and Garak would find that satisfaction anyway.  He huffed and played more with the dimmer switch, before settling back and propping his stack of files up on his knees.  

Miles, too, had read the program manual carefully, and stopped in front of every _absurd_ mirror on his way upstairs to his own office, in his own building, several blocks away within the limits of their universe.  Why were there so many mirrors? He considered this aloud as he paused in front of the fifth one, overlaying a mantlepiece, with a pistol displayed on a decorative arch in front of it.  Miles tested the security of it with one hand, slipping his fingers gently beneath the barrel, and detaching it from its mount with barely any difficulty at all. If he had ordered this strictly with holographic characters, he would need to take this up at a _precise_ moment before the halls of the house were stormed.  But, since he was playing with Julian, there was no _need_ for a weapon, as well as no way to _know_ when they would run into each other again.

He laughed at his reflection and loosened his tie, and ran his hand through his hair - Keiko had helped him slick it back, for historical accuracy, or something - and then sat down in front of the fireplace, staring at the pistol.

“Keiko’d love to see _this_ ,” he muttered to himself, amused at: “just how _bloody obvious_ I’ve got to be.”

He undid the uppermost button on his shirt and then the second as a precaution, ensuring his necktie fell slightly to the side of them, so Julian had no choice but to notice.  Any time now, he was meant to arrive at the house with accusations, and Miles was meant to ‘soothe his worries and sate his curiosities’ - that was the exact phrasing his half of the catalogue had provided - before he had the chance to leave and call for support from his agency.  It was all so _simple_ ; Miles had no faith in it whatsoever.

But, for Keiko’s sake…

Listening carefully, Miles waited until he was sure the front door had been shoved in before - oh, he felt _foolish_ \- before laying back against the armrest.  Then he waited some more, shrugged out of his jacket, and inspected his hair again with both hands.  Foolish!

But he felt better about it when Julian arrived, bounding up the stairs all too eagerly with a manilla folder tucked against his chest, and one finger jabbing forward in accusation.  He paused to catch his breath, stalling for time, and looked around the room rather than directly at Miles, who was of course accustomed to this, and knew to rein him in gently. So, Miles sat up, supporting himself on one folded arm, and nodded toward the doorway.

“Agent Bashir, is it?” he asked.  He had practiced the line a dozen ways in a dozen tones, and the one that prevailed now was slightly coy, clipped more closely than his accent usually was, enough for Julian to know this was in character.

“Agent O’Brien,” Julian replied curtly.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Miles continued, sitting fully forward now, widening his stance and setting one arm down on each knee.

“Yes, well, I…” Julian trailed off and stared at his folder for inspiration, but his eyes got caught at Miles’s groin on the way up again.  He coughed and restarted his line, and tried to shove Garak’s advice very, _very_ far out of mind.  “I… couldn’t--”

Helpfully, Miles interjected, and led Julian’s gaze up to his neckline, where he played with the knot on his tie.

“--couldn’t leave any lead unchecked.  Oh, I _know_.  Didn’t think that incredible eye for detail would ever get you in _trouble_ , now, did you?”

Julian stepped forward and tossed down the folder, so it landed on the low coffee table in front of the lounge where Miles was trying very hard to look alluring instead of foolish.  The folder was impeccably programmed - Julian would have to remind himself to compliment Quark on it, later - to fan out the pages as it fell, so that when Julian folded back the front panel, the page he wanted was on display.

His character was researching the loss of a fellow agent, and Julian had pieced together the clues correctly, and in a record time that had surprised even Miles.  But Miles had the pages of program that were omitted from Julian’s preparatory guide, which told him this missing agent was one he had seduced already. It was an absurd program, he was sure of that.

But the mood of it was carefully constructed, and the ambience felt genuine even though it was holographic, so that the roaring hearth brought both warmth and soft lighting, and the air of this esteemed estate was lightly perfumed, crisp, and clean.  The couch, too, was smooth and plush, and Miles thought very seriously about spending the night on it, however things worked out.

“Well,” Miles began again, “it doesn’t necessarily need to get you in _trouble_ , Agent Bashir, if you and I understand each other correctly.  I’m sure we could strike up… some kind of… bargain.”

With every pause, he tried intently to soften his expression while hardening his voice.  He was willing to _try_ Keiko’s strategy, but part of him - a large part of him - remained convinced it would only scare Julian away.

Julian, meanwhile, thought this was _excellent fun_ , and was thrilled to see Miles falling so deeply into character.  After giving a shy little grin to the side, as if momentarily breaking the fourth wall to acknowledge this, he stepped forward again, so his shins dug into the ornate rim of the coffee table.  He curled his fingers into fists.

“What have you done with Agent May?” he posed.

“Oh, I’ll show you.  Won’t you sit down?”

Julian approached hesitantly, and copied the way Miles was sitting, turning to lean with his back against the spiraling armrest.  He kept his hands primly folded, resting in his lap, and his breath hitched when Miles leaned in closer, closer…

Julian’s chin tipped forward, his eyes fell shut… and then Garak’s warnings appeared, burned into his eyelids in an unsettling, bright red font.  He snapped to attention, planted his hands more firmly downward, and inhaled again, finally.

“It’s… _ah_ ,” his lower lip trembled, so he bit it before continuing, mumbling through the syllables this practice broke, “all just for _fun_.”

“Yeah,” Miles softly reassured him.  “That’s right.”

Julian swallowed and nodded, and Miles ordered the lights to dim.  But that was the last little bit of clearly-coded action Julian needed, to piece together his _own_ set of clues.

One of Miles’s hands was crawling forward along the cushion, brushing at Julian’s knee, and he felt too frozen to even fold it up and out of reach.  With all his luck, he would have just hit himself and become even _less_ comfortable.

“You _are_ seducing me…” Julian said.

“It’s _working_?”

Quickly, Julian glanced around the room, then to either side of his friend’s face, and gave a shaky nod.  He was considering the signs of it, the results, and the remaining balance of the equation.

“Yes,” he said, genuinely unsure of whether he was behaving in character or not.

“ _Finally_ ,” sighed Miles, and he leaned in further, one hand climbing up to grip Julian’s carnation-studded lapel, while the other tenderly touched his cheek.  

And then, their lips met.

They moved forward, mutually closing the gap between their bodies, coming to rest in the center crease of the sofa.  Finding the fabric of Miles’s suit agreeable, Julian traced happily down his chest, up again at his sides, and then closed his hands together behind Miles’s back.  If he hooked one just right, he could slip between the suit and the starched shirt Miles wore beneath it, and he rubbed it eagerly.

Miles remained more traditionally restrained, keeping his attention on Julian’s cheek, learning how soft it was despite the shadow of stubble and sharp curve of bone, how warm and suitably gentle he was, on the whole.  Keiko would be hearing all of this, before she could sneak in a single ‘I told you so,’ no matter how well-justified. Miles had done it - and it had been just as foolish as he expected - but he had _succeeded_.

Or so he thought, judging by the long minutes they spent locked together, kissing softly and sharing breath in the glow of the hearth.  Their eyes would have remained locked together, too, had they not all been shut, while they felt and fondled each other blindly; it was far more _respectable_ that way.

Inevitably, Julian opened his eyes and complicated things.  His lashes did not flutter audibly, but Miles was somehow aware of the break anyway, perhaps based on the way Julian’s hand froze on his hip, never trailing any lower.

“Hmm?” Miles asked, still holding his lips together.

Julian was not completely sure what to say, and Miles’s lips tempted him into one more chaste little peck before he pulled away again, to his own side of the sofa.

“Oh _no_ ,” Julian said, in quiet shock.  “What am I _doing_?”

“It’s just for fun,” Miles offered, and touched his shoulder carefully.  “I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean to startle you or anything.”

Julian nodded more and more rapidly, trying to relax himself but failing miserably.  

“Only,” Miles continued, “Keiko has been wanting me to--”

“Your _wife_!” Julian practically shrieked, and Miles moved his hand up to cover his lips, instinctively.  Julian did not let this deter him, and spoke through the obstacle, “I’m _ruining_ your home and _our_ friendship, I’ve been--”

“Hey, hey, _relax_ ,” Miles said, taking his hand away.  “It’s all right; Keiko _knows_.  And this is… this is supposed to _help_ my home _and_ our friendship.”

Julian was trying to correct his own naivety, and remained unconvinced.  His arms were draped at his sides, now, and he was thankful Miles did not try to get any closer.

“Look,” Miles held aside one hand, in abstract illustration, “you know how Major Kira comes over?  We’ve got a room for her, and she can stay whenever she likes?”

“Yes.”

“It’d… be a little bit like that.”

“You mean recently… after Yoshi was born?”

“Yeah,” said Miles, because the answer should be _obvious_ , and Julian was _so close_.  “Come on, Julian, you’re a bright guy.”

Julian began running through all he remembered of the Major’s pregnancy: how, as quickly as he was _forced_ to learn her anatomy, Miles taught it to himself willingly.  He knew of massages, and planetside retreats to secluded places, and the intimate ceremonial birth itself.  There must have been other things he did _not_ know of, too.

“You know what an open marriage is?” Miles offered, somewhat unnerved by how long Julian, of all people, was keeping quiet.

“I _do_ , but I didn’t know you--”

“Well, it’s not the first thing we tell people, sure.  But it’s always been that way; you don’t need to feel bad, okay?  We… Keiko and I… we prefer to ask _friends_.  Some people ask strangers, but we’re not into that at all.”  He could not stop, now that he had begun, rifling through confessions on his way to the bottom of a very deep barrel, “You know what I said a couple years back - how people either love you or hate you?  You’ve got us _really_ close to the ‘love’ column, and we just...  We think you’re a _nice guy_ , and we want to get to know you better, and… god, I think that’s enough out of me.”

Julian chuckled dryly, through his nose, overwhelmed by all he was hearing.  Not in a bad way, but still.

“I’d have to agree,” he said, leaning in for another kiss.

They stayed just as they were, over one another on the sofa, until the program timer expired, and they were faced suddenly with the cold, endless grid of the suite.  But why stop there after such hard work, Miles thought to himself, so he invited Julian home.

“Keiko’s been dying to have you stay _after_ dinner,” he explained, with a casual laugh and a tossed shrug of one shoulder.

“Oh-hh,” Julian chuckled nervously, but Miles stopped and stood beside him until he was calm again, walking forward on his own free will.

“I can’t believe this,” Miles shook his head, but spoke fondly, “I didn’t think you’d _ever_ figure it out.”

“ _Ever_?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you I was interested for _months_ now.  And you were just _oblivious_.”

“...Ah,” said Julian, suddenly thinking about almost every time he had talked with Garak.

 


	2. Safe Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt 'safe sex' because you know that's a Thing Julian is really into.

Julian found himself in the O’Briens’ home with increasing frequency, and rapidly depleting ease.  The anxiety was his own, no fault of his hosts, and he wanted so badly to confide in them, but doing so in any meaningful detail only worried him further.

He gave himself a practice run by talking it through with Garak, without going into any detail at all, and instead coding his speech as best he could.  Not _quite_ to the transparent level of ‘hypothetically, if I had a friend who was…’ but from Garak’s perspective, it was one and the same.

“I worry that I… can’t offer the same _level_ that they expect of me,” Julian concluded, after some analogy about training simulations and inferior officers.

Garak tutted his tongue.

“I’m _sure_ you were granted this _extra responsibility_ for a reason.”

That was no help at all.  Julian could pin down the reason: they almost-loved him and were interested in something informal and fun, and he shared both of those feelings, which was the reason he found it so difficult to confide.  These were some of his dearest friends, and he could not tell them.

He was fairly certain Keiko knew already, that he had a womb, from the time she very nearly needed use of it.  Whether or not she had told Miles did not matter, really, because Julian remained _terrified_ of having to use it on accident.  He was equally afraid of Keiko becoming pregnant during his _residency_ in their home, and this was impossible to explain his way out of because Federation birth control was notoriously good; he was on several types of it, himself.

So every time he declined their offers and advances, and redirected them to less threatening activities, he worried he was being insulting.  He could _tell_ them he did not want to have a child, but the reason was deep and convoluted, and he knew himself to be prone to oversharing, once the initial break in composure had been made.  There was no way for him to know _how_ any child of his would develop; he was so young when he had been altered, that he did not expect any ‘improvements’ to have been made to his reproductive system.  Any number of disorders could appear as genetic defects, except he would _not_ display those traits anywhere in his own family history, and one way or another, his child would be _studied_ , or worse, _improved_.  He could not live with that possibility, no matter how microscopic it was.  Odds were all or nothing, as far as he was concerned. And they always had been, and they always would be.

“No, it’s alright,” Miles said one night, only the tiniest bit annoyed by Julian’s refusal.  “I mean, I get where you’re coming from. Honestly, I do. But Keiko and I have been on the same series since, uh, since she stopped carrying Yoshi, so even if you _weren’t_ on--”

“Right, yes.  I just…” Julian prepared to lie terribly, “I don’t really… _enjoy_ that.”

Miles furrowed his brow, but nodded nonetheless, and reached down between them, to touch Julian’s knee.

“I never have,” said Julian, newly fueled, “Some of my girlfriends have, er, just…”

“We can work with that,” Miles said.  “I don’t mean to pressure you. And believe me, Keiko has _no_ objections to what you _have_ done, so far.”

Julian smiled sheepishly and raised his hands up from the mattress, where he had driven them nervously inward.  

“It is all a bit new to me,” Julian admitted.  Fine, let Miles feel sorry for me, he thought.

“It’s _alright_ ,” Miles reiterated, from before.  “You can _talk_ to us.  We’re not just after your body, you know.”

With a nervous little laugh, Julian nodded in agreement, and dismissed most of his body with a careful and illustrative touch, glossing his hand over the places he knew bone was easily traceable.  

“I…” - what, he thought, ‘ _know_?’  ‘ _Can’t?’_ \- “I will, s-sometime.”

“Good,” Miles tapped his knee again, ignoring the bone Julian was seemingly embarrassed by, “I’m glad.  C’mere.”

Patting the open space in front of himself on the bed, Miles invited Julian forward, and they did not do anything Julian deemed uncomfortable.  They held each other close, traded kisses over their lips, cheeks, necks, shoulders… Miles asked deliberately before moving anywhere new, and Julian never felt coerced to agree.  It was almost calming, the steady rhythm Miles gave him; he had never guessed Miles was capable of being so sensual.

“How ‘bout here?” Miles asked, carefully touching Julian’s clavicle with only a single fingertip.  

“Yes.  I’d like that.”

Miles drew his lips together at the break between collar-bones, gently, again and again.  When there was a long enough pause, Julian ached to reciprocate - he _always_ ached to reciprocate - so he leaned in kissed the same place on Miles’s body, chin tickled by the hair beneath it.  Miles was laughing lightly, encouragingly, but Julian misunderstood at first, and stopped. Miles tried to calm him again with humor.

“If I were you,” Miles explained, “I wouldn’t want to deal with being pregnant either.  Keiko’s made it sound enough like hell, and she’s got every right to, don’t get me wrong.”

“Hmm,” Julian mimicked the original laugh.  So she _did_ know, and _had_ told her husband.

“And I know _neither of you_ would let me live it down, if I… got you…”

“I understand, Miles.  That does make me feel better, actually, and…” Julian babbled now, very close to plunging too deeply, “I meant to have it removed, but then I thought I might just-- I mean, it isn’t as if it’s easily accessible, anyway, and you’d, er, have to worry about my… _cycle_ , and the odds are so low th--”

Miles buried his face as much as possible into the curve of Julian’s chest, where it raised in comparison to his stomach.  He kept himself pleasantly occupied.

“Not just after your body,” he repeated, and Julian relaxed ever further, while Miles trailed his kisses lower and lower, until they teased Julian’s shaft. “We’ve all got preferences.”

This, now, was one of Miles’s.  He did not care so much for receiving, which both Keiko and Julian knew and struggled with, but he gave enthusiastically, now that Julian’s presence allowed it.  Reclining further into the arrangement of cushions, Julian felt truly comfortable, and welcomed Miles to kneel on the bed beside him.

Julian did not feel tense again until _after_ Miles had finished or, more accurately, allowed _him_ to finish.  The rhythm was just as steady, as he stroked Julian’s length with his tongue, closing his lips ever so gently.  In the end, he leaned aside and dragged his tongue over his arm to clean it, rather than swallow, and Julian shut his eyes, rather than watch.  Miles excused himself for a shower, and Julian shrugged and did not invite himself along. He stayed there on the bed, on his back, reflecting, until Keiko came in from the main room, having put the children to bed on the other side of the house some hours ago.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” she said, smoothing out a space for herself on the vacated side of the bed.  

Julian, meanwhile, reached frantically for the duvet to cover himself, but Keiko leaned in and kissed his cheek at the precise moment it began to betray his blush.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“I, er, I… you tell me?” he stammered, failing at sounding confident in any capacity.

“ _Julian_ ,” she laid down, leaning over him for a brief moment, just to nuzzle their noses together; he usually liked that.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

He _did_ , but...

He sniffled when she pulled away from his face, but the pathetic noise of it only brought her closer again.  She touched his cheek with such tenderness, stroking carefully, as if drawing the tears out of him. But if she was doing that, at least she was also leading them away, and taking ownership of them.  He wanted to sit up, but decided against wasting the energy. The back of her hand kept tracing down from his cheek-bone, over and over. He had never felt so _delicate_ , and was unsure if this was good or bad.  So he admitted to it, and Keiko nodded in understanding.

From inside the adjoining bathroom, they both heard the water being switched off.  They met each other’s gazes in confidence, and Keiko stood quickly, and moved to the other side of the bed, nearer to the bathroom, which Miles preferred.  

“Miles worries about that too,” she said to him, quietly, “like he isn’t _enough_ for me.  And he was intimidated by you at first… he saw you as a way to kind of… I don’t know, to give me whatever he thought he _couldn’t_.  But I think all of that’s silly.  Silly, and sweet.”

Julian nodded and shut his eyes, and his throat remained constricted between all he was feeling and not saying.

“You don’t have anything to prove to either of us,” Keiko assured him.  “We want you to feel comfortable enough to stay, but it isn’t for everyone…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Julian said, unhappy with himself.  “I appreciate all you _have_ done, to try to make me feel at home, and…”

Miles stepped out of the bathroom, dressed for bed, tousling his hair dry with both hands inside a towel.  

“Thanks a lot,” he said sarcastically, indicating the small sliver of mattress Keiko had left him.  “Are you staying, Julian?”

Julian scooted over, and Keiko followed, and then Miles finally sat down.

“Ah… yes.  For a bit, anyway.  I-if I’m welcome, that is.”

“Don't say it like that. ‘Course you are.”

He found he could feel the very tips of Miles’s fingers along his waist, as the three of them nestled up together and tried to fall asleep.  It was difficult for him, because his thoughts continued catching on the same untouchable points. Eventually, when he was sure both of the others were asleep, he got up to replicate himself a sleeping tablet, but then he could not decide whether to try to climb back into their bed, sleep the last remaining hour of his off-time in the spare bedroom, or go home to his own quarters.

The option he took was the furthest on his list of preferences: going into the Infirmary early.  When he arrived, he found Garak standing outside, leaning against the concave corridor approaching the entrance, staring up at the lighted sign.  Julian went in and shook off most of the tablet’s effects with a large raktajino, before sitting down at his desk to get some work done. Something, anything.

Garak followed, and the on-duty nurse failed to stop him from going into Julian’s office, too.

“On Cardassia,” he began without prelude, and Julian snapped up from the screen he was absently looming over, as if Garak was part of a nightmare, “I spent my youth living beside a family of five enjoined adults, four of them women with enviable ancestry…”

“And what, Garak?  They had _amazing_ dinner parties?” Julian prodded, unhappily.  “Why are you telling me?”

“I just thought you might like to know.”

“If you _know_ ,” Julian said, setting out one hand in vague indication, “why are you so interested in making me feel worse?”

“You misunderstand me, Doctor.  I have spent enough nights with… _unfortunate_ company, and even _more_ unfortunate… chemical distraction, following.  I am merely looking out for a friend.”

“It sounds like you’re looking a little too closely.”

“True, true,” agreed Garak, “but replicator records are notoriously easy to come by, these days.  I could do that with my eyes closed.”

“ _Garak_ ,” Julian growled, then returned to staring at his workstation with even more dramatized determination.  His eyelids were barely open, but beneath them, his eyes were focused and he was reading quickly, distractedly, taking in none of the words from the screen.

But the point was taken, and Julian sighed and looked at Garak again properly, more calmly than before.

“I appreciate it, but I would appreciate it _more_ if you let me get some sleep,” he said, copying Garak’s earlier pattern of speech.

Garak’s lips spread into a thin, irritating smile, and he departed.  Without standing, Julian called for the nurse to wake him in time for his actual shift to start, and then poured his raktajino down the drain before sprawling out on one of the unoccupied biobeds, pulling the curtain shut all around.

The shift he worked was fairly typical, perhaps even a bit slow by wartime standards.  He spent the free periods sprinkled between appointments on researching the most effective, least conspicuous forms of protection he could add to his personal prescriptions; he would not force any additional measures on his hosts, out of fear of insulting them.  Little did he know Miles and Keiko were having a similar discussion in their home.

“Nerys would just--” Miles was arguing.

“He _isn’t Nerys_.  Clearly he’s less independent than she is.  He _wants_ to spend more time with us, and I think we could try a little harder to make sure he’s comfortable here.”

“I’m… not disagreeing with any of that,” Miles decided, mentally backtracking over their conversation so far.  “I don’t want him to hate us.”

Keiko shrugged.

“ _And_ Nerys was carrying our baby, and that,” she thought for a moment about how to express herself, “that gives her a stronger connection, more influence, and he’s lacking that right now.”

“I agree with you,” Miles said, confused, “I don’t want him uncomfortable, I _said_ that he--”

“Oh, I know, Miles.  I know. I’m just trying to get it to ‘click’... you know?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, pulling her in close by the shoulder.  “I’ll go and get him when his shift’s over.”

“And _don’t_ overwhelm him,” Keiko warned.

“What, _me?_  What about you and your thirty varieties of condom, and six lubes, and--?”

Keiko had indeed ordered a wide range of possibilities for them to try, and was already reading up on each one and trying to guess which Julian would like to use first - insisting playfully that her guess would be closer to correct than Miles’s would.  But then he ruined the game, and declined to guess at all.

As directed, he left to retrieve Julian from the Infirmary, and on their walk home, he tried to nonchalantly warn Julian about what Keiko was pitting them against.  

“We want to be more _careful_ with you, and don’t want you to feel embarrassed for asking,” Miles said.

“Oh, er, all right,” Julian agreed, only partially understanding. “That sounds… exciting.”

Not convinced Miles had done a good job of explaining - and correct in this assumption - Keiko reached to take Julian’s hand the moment he passed through their front door, intending to keep him grounded while his mind worked.  She led him along to the main bedroom and explained that the children were with a neighbor for the night, there was no need to rush, he could have whatever choice he wanted...

“ _Oh_ ,” he said again, seeing her lineup, “all right.  M-may I?”

Before releasing his hand, she squeezed it fondly, and he set to work examining his options, reading the boxes, delicately stroking the samples she had unwrapped.  Some warmed themselves at the touch, others expanded, some claimed to be coated with pleasant flavors, others were designed to mimic other humanoid species, and the rest were comparatively quite plain, beyond being thickly reinforced.

He toyed with the tip of the one made to resemble Cardassian ridges for a moment too long, and Miles rolled his eyes.

“I’m not wearing that one,” he said, firmly.

“ _Miles_ ,” pleaded Keiko, while Miles immediately sighed over her.

“No, no, I wasn’t--” Julian set it down and moved further down the line.  “It… I liked the feel of it, that’s all. I wouldn’t want to… to think about…”

“Thank _god_ ,” said Miles, while Keiko gave him a look.  “Neither would I.”

“Clearly,” Keiko muttered.

To stop them bickering any further - and because he had found one he genuinely liked the tensile strength of - Julian finalized his choice.  Miles took it from him, and then the matching box, because Julian insisted they open a new one, now that they had all been felt and stretched.  

“I really appreciate this,” Julian said, while Keiko took _both_ his hands and showed him to the bed.  

He sat on the edge of it, flush with excitement, and then paled by timidity.  These were his dearest friends, and they _accepted_ him.  They were willing to accommodate him, no matter how bizarre his requests seemed from any outside perspective.  

 _Almost_ all of his requests, anyway. The important ones, Julian thought to himself, as he helped _them_ to help _him_ , opening a warming lubricant and applying it with Keiko and then tenderly helping Miles slip into one of the least _exciting_ condom options.


	3. Sexual Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a Free Space which I've decided to call Sexual Healing, for no reason other than it amuses me.

Julian began to spend more and more of his nights at the O’Briens’ house, after that.  Sometimes, he came home late, and they were asleep already, so he would make himself comfortable in the guestroom as quietly as possible.  When Keiko knew he was working overnight, she would leave their bedroom door open for him, and he generally arrived in time to trade Miles places, as he left for his own shift in Engineering.  Otherwise, she admitted to feeling like she was leaving a dog outside in the rain, which Miles scoffed at but could not come up with an argument against. Anyway, Julian _always_ kissed him on the cheek on these mornings, as he left for work, and he found he could not argue against that, either.

They left him to sleep during the day, in those cases, with Keiko trying to keep the children quiet in the living room, until she realized he was capable of sleeping through a _lot_.  Molly was free to enthusiastically narrate the adventures of her plush Hara cat, while Yoshi was spoken to, and at, and on behalf of at a normal conversational volume.  Keiko played music - she had recently dug up recordings featuring Miles playing cello in the _Enterprise’s_ ensemble - and sheared the shelf of bonsai trees with a little set of electric clippers that gave out a high-pitched frequency.  When she had free afternoons, she would make something complex and time-consuming for dinner. Julian slept through all of this. The wafting scent of the spices might stir him, but he usually incorporated it into a dream and went back to sleep until Miles returned home.  Julian was well attuned to the sound of the front door swishing open, if nothing else. 

He would turn over and shake off whatever amount of the grogginess he could before shimmying free of the blanket and straightening out whichever oversized shirt he had borrowed from Miles to sleep in.  Thinking it too forward to set up his own rack of clothing in the closet, and detesting the feeling of touching the sheets with too much skin, this was the compromise Keiko had helped him to reach. The sleeves were not too long, but certainly too baggy, as were the trousers.  But it was better than nothing, and he learned to find them enjoyable in their own way, carrying the scent of Miles from his time off-duty, then very faintly of Keiko, and of the detergent they used in their recycler. Garak had made the shirt he was wearing, this afternoon, cut with an asymmetrical collar, but he had chosen it purely by coincidence, needing to put on _something_ other than his uniform before collapsing into bed after a sixteen hour shift.

In the living room, Keiko was receiving an annoyed Major Kira from the front door, exchanging her for the children, who she passed off to a neighbor.  She wanted to ensure the room would be quiet.

“Sit down,” she said to Nerys, who agreed willingly, and no other words were needed for some time.

The sudden silence woke Julian up more quickly than any noise, even that of the door mechanism, so he stumbled into the bathroom to make himself slightly more presentable.  He found the laundry chute already locked - Keiko must have put his uniform in to wash while he was sleeping - so he would have to remain as he was. Twisting the extra fabric around his waist and tucking in his shirt helped somewhat; he nodded at the mirror in acceptance of his reflection, before rinsing out his mouth and fluffing up his hair.  

But then he approached the door and was inundated with new noises: soft conversation, creaking furniture, and a near-constant whirr from the replicator.  He retreated to the bed and ducked beneath the covers, ready to pretend he was still sleeping in case anyone came in. But no one did for a long time, so he found himself genuinely drifting off again.

“--and they think they can just walk in and out, whenever they feel like it,” Nerys was lamenting, “It’s a _temple_ , Keiko.  It’s arranged that way _for a reason_   You think I lay out incense for people to _step on_?”

Keiko and Nerys had shared many discussions about the temple and the teachings from within, and Keiko had found herself more understanding of Nerys’s position of faith, even though she did not share it.  Their combined carriage of Yoshi had finalized these emotions, and now their talks were honest and supportive.

“Have they had a chance to learn about their heritage?” Keiko asked helpfully, referring to the troublesome young teenagers Nerys was reprimanding.

“Their chance _is in the temple_!  Ugh,” Nerys sighed, agitated, “I have a headache.”

She leaned forward on her knee, pinching the bridge of her nose, and even shutting her eyes rather than receive Keiko’s sympathetic glance.  But Keiko persisted.

“I’ll call Julian for you.  He’s just--”

“No, no, no,” Nerys quieted herself, and shook her head with her nose still locked between her fingers. “It’s not that bad.”

“ _Nerys_ ,” Keiko insisted, “you need to take better care of yourself.  It’s _okay_.”

“Next time the Vedeks have an idea about youth outreach, I’m going to... _just_ \--!”

Keiko sighed, this time, and shook her head gently.  She scooted in close enough for their knees to touch, and was thankful to find Nerys did not recoil.  In fact, Nerys hunched forward, due in part to her dizziness, and did not mind when Keiko stroked through her hair with careful fingers, expertly avoiding catching on her earring.  

“Miles’ll be home soon,” Keiko explained.  “You should stay for a massage.”

“Mmm,” Nerys hummed in satisfaction, and leaned into Keiko’s touch, “I think I can give that a try.”

“ _Good_.  Let me get you something to eat.  That might help, too.”

The house replicator was kept busy with requests for a pot of soothing green tea and a plate of spicy hasperat to complement it, and when Nerys seemed satisfied to stop shaking her head, Keiko went and fetched the tray for them to share.  

Nerys slouched forward, balancing her teacup between both hands and knees.  Keiko continued gently scratching her temples, and moved behind her ears, then down her neck, as Nerys made quiet sighs of approval.  Upon reaching the heavily padded shoulders of the uniform, Nerys formed the expected offer at the same time Keiko formed the question.

“Hang on,” Nerys said, more loudly than Keiko.  

She shrugged out of her uniform jacket; her woven undershirt left her shoulders easily accessible, and Keiko kneaded them with vigor.  

“Mmmhhh, Keiko…” Nerys said, setting aside her teacup and allowing Keiko’s force to move her, “...I want to… _would you_?”

Keiko grinned into the kiss they shared, and nodded as she pulled back from it again.  Nerys’s intimate involvement in the marriage was understated, if only because more went on than their public image implied.  She did not kiss them ‘hello’ at the Replimat, walk with her arms linked through theirs on the Promenade, nor stumble in and out of holodeck programs with them.  Her confidence in her sexuality was a different matter altogether, and a great many scenarios were avoided so as not to stir unpleasant memories of the Occupation, but she was generally quite willing to expend her tension and frustration within the safety of the O’Briens’ quarters.  She had learned several fascinating human methods with them, and there was one she was particularly fond of.

Gently, Keiko stroked her thumb over the hidden zipper that ran down one side of Nerys’s uniform trousers, beginning high on her waist and ending halfway down her thigh.  After it was opened - and after several more passionate kisses - Keiko moved her fingers through the intricate but familiar waistband of Nerys’s undergarment.

“I don’t know how much this’ll help,” Nerys admitted, laughing lightly.

“You don’t think _I_ can make you feel better?” Keiko teased, dipping her hand down from the waistband so her fingertips touched the ridged folds of Nerys’s entrance.

“When will Miles be home, again?”

The teasing ended abruptly in kisses, more fierce than before, with Nerys stroking her tongue firmly over Keiko’s before breaking apart and nibbling at her lower lip.  Keiko’s fingers continued tracing Nerys’s intimate ridges, waiting to feel her folds swell and spread open before even thinking about breaching inside. In Keiko’s experience, Bajorans were wonderfully warm and responsive, being easily undone by strong feelings, either their own, or their partner’s.

She had achieved a slow but steady rhythm, with Nerys resting her head on the upper cushion of the sofa and shivering with delight, by the time Miles did arrive home.  The sharp gasps and strangled moans that made up an enjoyable soundtrack for Julian’s latest dream had much the same effect on Miles, who walked inside and rushed forward, so the door would shut before anyone outside could take in the sight.

Then, several things happened at once.  Keiko and Nerys began a simultaneous explanation of the headache that had put them in this position, Miles unzipped his coat but left it on - using the loose panels to fan air over his face - and Julian finally rolled himself out of bed.

“I take it you didn’t ask Julian,” Miles chuckled to himself, and gestured at the door, “He still here?”

Nerys’s eyes followed his hand as it indicated the bedroom, widening as the realization dawned.  And as it was completed, the door opened, and there Julian stood, one hand buried in his hair as if to support his head, taking slow, sliding steps into the living room.

“Miles,” he said happily.

“Keiko!” Nerys accused.  “ _Doctor Bashir_ …?”

“Hello, Major.”

He dropped his hand from his hair, and as the haze cleared from his eyes, he pointed, bewildered, at the sofa, himself, and the bedroom.

“I’d better, er… let me just go…”

“You’d better,” Nerys echoed, coldly.

“I’m _so sorry_ ,” Keiko quietly interjected. “I tried to tell you.”

Keiko could not blame her, and in fact could more easily blame _herself,_ but she withdrew her hands nonetheless, and shifted over on the sofa so Nerys could sit primly upright beside her.  Miles joined them, sliding between Nerys and the armrest, offering a more chaste massage, which Nerys accepted with an agitated but ultimately grateful, “that would be _fine_.”  She sat up tall, pointedly making herself taller than Miles, and rolled her shoulders back into his grip.  Julian remained watching for another lingering moment before retiring to the main bedroom, and pacing aimlessly inside.  He felt… terrible.

The sounds outside changed drastically in tone, as Miles worked out the tension from Nerys’s neck and shoulders, while Keiko apologetically offered to refill her tea.  Julian came back out, clutching his ridiculously oversized choice of pajamas at his waist and chest, feeling, suddenly, as if he was wearing only a towel and intruding on something much more private.  

“I-I was asleep, honestly,” he tried to explain, “I didn’t know you were… um…”

Nerys pinched the bridge of her nose again while Miles vouched for this claim.

“He’s one hell of a deep sleeper.”

A little uncomfortably, Julian sorted back through his cloudy memories of the rest of the hours he had spent in that bed, wondering what other intimate activities he had missed out on.  He twitched at this, and looked up at Miles for some kind of confirmation. Or perhaps Keiko would be more sympathetic.

“Was something the matter?” he asked.  “I… I thought I heard something about a headache?”

Nerys shrugged, as if this refuted Julian’s earlier claim, even though her ailment had been addressed after Miles came in, meaning Julian had been properly awake.

“Well, it isn’t a bad approach,” he went on. “An orgasm can increase pain tolerance by raising the body’s production of endorphins, and…”

It reminded him, strangely, of Garak.  He trailed off.

“Maybe I just wanted the orgasm,” Nerys said, determined as always to match the doctor’s forthrightness.  

It usually was successful in tripping him up, and this time it worked to stall Miles’s ministrations, too.  His hands stilled at the base of Nerys’s exposed shoulders, fingers caught in the woven straps as they crept upward again.

“And _maybe_ ,” she continued, newly inspired, “I didn’t want you listening in from another room.  Can you understand that one, Doctor?”

“Nerys, I--” he faltered, “I’ve… they…  Miles and Keiko _invited me over_ first and--”

“Julian,” Miles warned, without further explanation.

“I sleep in _that room_ probably three times a week!” Julian said.

“It’s only Wednesday,” added Keiko.

“Or more,” Julian corrected himself.

“ _I’ll_ go,” Nerys conceded, tossing her arms in defeat.  She pulled her coat over her shoulders and zipped it as she left.

Keiko apologized, and Nerys muttered in acceptance of it, but she still left.

“I’m… sorry,” said Julian.

“No, we are,” Keiko corrected, including Miles even though he was as new to the situation as Julian was.  

Julian mumbled a dozen more false-starts of his thoughts, and eventually sat down on the opposite side of the sofa from Miles, with Keiko between them.  Taking the silence - and Keiko’s careful avoidance - as a signal it was his turn to speak, Miles worked to prepare something satisfactory.

“I didn’t think this would come up so soon,” Miles admitted.  “But it’s like this: we have a relationship with Major Kira, and we have a relationship with you, but that doesn’t mean you two need to have anything to do with each other.”

“I know you two are friends, and that can be difficult,” Keiko added. “And we would respect your decision either way.”

Julian was not entirely sure of that, but nodded nonetheless, while he considered it.

“I should go talk to her,” he decided.

“Hmm,” Miles exhaled through his nose, “good luck with that.  I’ll have with a word with her _tomorrow_ , at best.”

“I _do_ need to apologize,” Julian maintained, and he went on his way, tucking and tightening and tying his oversized clothes just enough to make himself decent.

He found her up several floors, pacing in front of the viewports above the Promenade.  The banners around her were still wavering, from the force of her stomping past them moments prior.  Julian was just about to announce himself when she turned, arms crossed at her chest, and huffed at him.

“What the _hell_ was _that_?”

“I don’t know,” he replied immediately, stepping carefully into her space near the bulging glass, trying to imagine how it made her feel.  Safe or insignificant, helpless or in control?

It made _him_ feel at home.  He cleared his throat, but she took the cue and spoke over him, about the way she felt.

“I’m a part of that _family_ , Doctor,” she said.  “I have a _deep respect_ for those two people, and then _you_ just--”

“No, Major,” he pleaded quietly, “I have to stop you there.  You don’t think _I_ respect them?  Two of my closest friends?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated, undecided.

“You… don’t know?”

“That’s right.  I don’t know what to _do_.  I feel…” she struggled to articulate, “...I feel _home_ when I’m with them.”

“Belonging,” Julian clarified.  “Acceptance, in spite of your flaws. _Love_.  I feel the same.”

With her arms crossed, and her fingernails digging into each opposing elbow, Nerys made an agitated noise.

“It sounds like we both want the same thing.  But we _can’t both be--_ ”

 _Why can’t we_? He thought to himself, but he made a conscious effort to say _anything_ else, afraid of offending her, and widening some cultural disparity.  

“It would be _much_ easier if you and I, um, got along… better,” he said, instead.

To console herself, she laughed dryly while she looked him over.  There had been a brief connection between them, an artificially created one, several years ago.  She wondered what she had been made to see in him then, under the effects of a Betazoid fever, and if she could conjure up the images again, now.

Being a taker of action, Nerys uncrossed her arms and reached out for Julian’s, gripping him forcefully at each shoulder and pulling him in closer.  His breath caught for a moment, but he understood what she was doing and did not resist her, and allowed her to close the gap the rest of the way. Digging her full weight forward, rocking on the soles of her boots, she brought herself to his level and kissed him on the mouth.  And she saw in him nothing.

She would much rather conjure up images of Keiko.  Then, after that, there was Miles. And Julian, who was standing barely a breath’s reach away from her at that moment, blinking slowly and profusely, and wringing his hands together in front of himself.

“Sorry,” Nerys said.

“...Don’t be.”

“ _Julian_ ,” she said intentionally, to snap him out of the haze she had just submerged him in.

“Right, right, yes.  Er… we’ll have to think of something else.”

Nerys nodded and turned to the side again, seeking further comfort from the viewport.  This time, Julian followed suit and _hoped_ they saw the same thing out there, but he doubted it.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, because he was quiet. _Why_ did no one trust him when he was _quiet_?

“S-some kind of schedule,” he admitted.

“I don’t like that.”

“No, I don’t either; it was just the first thing I could think of.  I _like_ being able to stop by whenever I… whenever I need to.”

“You and me both,” said Nerys.

“So, then,” Julian began deducing, “we’ve got to work out what to do when we _both_ want to see them at the same times.”

“We have to see _each other_.  Because I have a feeling neither of us would back down.”

He chuckled a little at that, concise and true as it was, but more so, he laughed because Nerys had brought herself to admit it.  

“We _did_ both leave, just now,” he pointed out.

“Because we _don’t want_ to see each other,” Nerys said, crumpling her fists at her sides. “This is hopeless.”

“Words I never thought I’d hear from you,” Julian observed, smiling enough to frustrate her.

“So _what_ , then?  Neither of us make any changes, and things like this’ll keep happening.  I _just want_ to…  I want to _be with_ Keiko - Julian! - and Miles, and you--”

“But not all at once,” he corrected.  “ _Slow down_.”

“We’re just going in circles.”

“It… _could_ work, if you and I were more deliberate,” and then he abruptly went silent again, and Nerys lost him.

“What do you mean?” she prompted.

His eyes had turned downward, and his thoughts inward, until he replied in a slow, measured tone.

“I recognize and respect where you’re coming from,” he said, watching Nerys grapple with her attraction to Keiko without either of them acknowledging it yet.  He had to be _precise_ , here.

“That’s… more mature than what I was _expecting_ you to say.”

“Well, I’m not finished,” he said, amused.  “What I mean is, you and I can _respect_ each other, and maintain boundaries, and still be… involved.  I mean we, as a group, can be in love with one another simultaneously, but in _different ways_ , and that… might…”

“Might help,” Nerys supplied his ending.

“Exactly!”

In his excitement, he touched her arm, as if this would cement their thoughts together, and she found she did not mind.


	4. Group Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt 'Group Sex' which... well, it's debatable. Enjoy.

Having established this connection and shared this vulnerability, Julian and Nerys found their personal _schedules_ inadvertently overlapping with greater frequency.  The main difference, now, was the fact they could share a discussion of boundary without raising their voices too much at all.  On one evening in particular, they arrived within only a few minutes of each other, intending to discuss their progress with the O’Briens, to try and establish some middle ground.  Julian, especially, was proud of himself and this new indication of _maturity_ , as both Nerys and Keiko called it.

Miles did not discuss it so forwardly, afraid Julian might find mention of the developments condescending, but the changes themselves were not lost on him, either.

That night, the two of them sat in the main bedroom; Nerys had arrived minutes earlier, and made her way to _her_ guestroom to talk to Keiko.  Julian had finally brought his own clothes to wear to bed, and Miles was fondly watching him unpack these from a sprawled-out position on the pillows.

“You _did_ hear the Major come in this time, right?” he verified, as a joke to himself.

“Yes.  Yes I did,” Julian said, seriously.  “She and I have been talking, as a matter of fact.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.  What?” Julian asked, turning to face Miles to get a better idea of his intended meaning.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.  Don’t get me wrong - I _know_ Nerys can be a kind and thoughtful woman.  It’s just… I also know _getting to that point_ can take some time, with her.”

“Yes, we talked about that, too,” Julian said, unfolding his spare shirt and draping it over the dresser so it would not wrinkle; he did not like to feel creases any more than he liked to feel the O’Briens’ bedsheets. “But she and I respect each other, and we care very deeply about the two of _you_.”

“Me and Keiko?”

“Of course, ‘you and Keiko.’  Who else do you think I’m managing to see?”

“Alright, alright,” Miles said, leaning back further, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Julian sighed, and fussed with the cuff on one of his pajama-shirt sleeves, “It’s… I’m _nervous_.  All over again.”

“You mean the two of you didn’t plan out some grand scene for tonight?” Miles’s voice was still light, and Julian _still_ did not know how it made him feel.

“No, not exactly.”

“But a little bit?” Miles teased.  “And look, if _I_ can handle Major Kira, _you’ll_ be fine.  I don’t let her intimidate me any more than I want her to; that’s the trick.”

Julian came to sit beside him on the bed, seeking clarification, and grateful he had the silk-draped pillows and duvet to play with, instead of the sheets below.  

“You like her to intimidate you?” Julian asked.

“Yeah, sure I do.  It’s a nice change of pace.”

“I don’t... _always_ do well with intimidation,” Julian admitted.

“I’ve noticed.  You really are nervous about it, huh?”

“I don’t have any reason to be,” Julian tried to rationalize for himself, “she and I have talked it over, and come to at least a _basic_ understanding, and the primary goal is for--”

Miles reached for Julian’s hand - Keiko had taught him this approach - and settled his own over the back of it, slotting his knuckles between Julian’s, then clasping together their fingers.

“You don’t _have to_ do this, you know,” he tried to placate whatever he could of Julian’s fears, but the sentiment alone did not help much.  “Keiko and I _won’t mind_ if you two don’t get along anywhere else but on duty.  It doesn’t _matter_ to us, we _still love you_.”

“But… it does matter, to Nerys and I, and we would like to try it,” Julian decided.  “She and I are not used to these _open_ settings, and we like to be able to reciprocate what we are given.  We’ve learned we have that trait in common.”

“Alright.  Well done, with that.”

At this point, Julian finally became aware that he was being touched - still on the hand, and nowhere else, yet - and he worked his face into an agreeable smile.  

“And I can’t speak for her,” Julian went on, “but _I_ will try not to get _too_ heartbroken if it doesn’t all go to plan.”

“Good man,” said Miles, squeezing his hand, and using it as an anchor, pulling Julian in closer above him.

In the other bedroom, across the house, Nerys had led Keiko through a similar conversation.  Nerys, however, had deeper and more conflicted passions to express than Julian did, and Keiko, fortunately, was better at digging them out than Miles was.  So they came to the same conclusion as the men did, but in less time, and arrived at the point of intimacy as a means of celebration.

They undressed one another slowly, between tender strokes and lingering kisses against heated skin.  When Nerys smiled and shut her eyes, little crinkles formed at the edges of her lips and eyelids, and Keiko kissed these places, too, delighting in the resulting laughter, wondering when either of them had ever felt so relaxed.  

Keiko’s hands stroked firmly upward from Nerys’s thighs, stopping to gather skin at her waist, pinching her so that she could not help but squirm.  

“We’re so lucky to have you,” Keiko whispered this against Nerys’s lips, then surprised her with a kiss on her cheek, instead.  “ _So_ lucky.  I hope those two know that.”

“They do,” Nerys affirmed, letting Keiko guide her downward.

The two of them remained this way, Nerys’s back nestled into Keiko’s front, while Keiko reached one hand between her legs and held her still with the other.  Nerys _adored_ Keiko’s fingers, and Keiko knew it, and gave them to her happily in return.  She traced carefully between the lines formed by Nerys’s ridges, varying her strokes until the lines no longer matched up evenly; when they had spread, Keiko could make her way comfortably inside.

“Mmm,” Nerys sighed as Keiko entered her, and pulled her in closer, arm barred around her waist.  “I hope they know _half_ as much as you do.”

“We’ll see,” Keiko teased, raising her head enough to kiss Nerys on the ear, between her piercings.

As it turned out, the men were still several steps behind.

Julian did not mind being the one to lean over Miles, for a change, and he outspokenly enjoyed when Miles touched him through his clothing.  So they had not bothered to undress yet, even though Miles made increasingly enthusiastic attempts to get Julian aroused. Beneath the thin clothing he was wearing - not his uniform, today - Miles could easily, _intimately_ trace the shape of him.

He groped between Julian’s legs, while Julian canted his hips and caught his breath.  Eventually, and with Julian’s permission, the shirt and trousers were removed, leaving an even more frustrating set of undergarments, which fitted even tighter against his skin.  Miles had seen him in all manner of revealing and ridiculous clothes before, but not so closely. The next time he touched, he made sure his hand was even more gentle than before, as he rubbed up and down Julian’s concealed length.  Julian shivered at this, and Miles stopped.

“God,” he marvelled.  “As if you didn’t have enough to be smug about...”

“Hmm?” Julian had to blink several times to catch up, and found himself staring down at Miles’s hand, still slightly confused.  “Oh, er, go ahead.”

Miles nodded and helped Julian to step out of his underwear, and returned immediately to cupping his penis.

“...then they go and give you a cock like _that_.”

Julian froze.  The Miles did, too, and withdrew his hand, apologizing, thinking himself too forward for Julian’s tastes.

“Who?” Julian asked, panicked.

“No one,” Miles shrugged.  “Just… ‘they,’ whatever you believe in; whoever created you.  God, the universe, no one at all…”

Julian worked hard to swallow, and laugh amiably instead of with any hostility.  Now was certainly not the time.

“Oh,” said Julian.  “S-sorry. I--”

“I didn’t mean to put you off,” Miles replied, realizing just how difficult it was _not to_ .  Sometimes he forgot how _young_ Julian was, and how many of his romantic pursuits had been purely performance-based.  “I just meant that I… that I liked it.”

“Oh,” Julian repeated.  “Then, um, please. By all means; enjoy yourself.”

Miles was more careful, now, to continue doing things he _knew_ Julian liked, thumbing his glans _firmly_ , then rolling his testicles _gently_ over his hand.  There was a surprising amount of contradiction contained in the man, Miles thought, all manner of hidden layers and complexities.  Julian sighed softly as Miles continued stroking him, pulling himself in close to Miles’s shoulder, breathing warm breath after warm breath against his neck.  Somehow, it felt serene, and right, and it took Miles another few _minutes_ of the comfortable silence to recall the rest of their plans.

“We ought to go help the girls along, hmm?” Miles asked.

Julian laughed out loud at that, because he did not expect they needed any _help_ ; he was correct.  Miles preceded him, in order to signal at the guest-room door sensor, and was met by a cut-off moan and a quiet little ‘ _yes_?’ from Nerys.

“Can we come in?” Miles asked, leaning forward against the frame of the door.

Keiko admitted them, shrugging and sighing, “finally,” as she released the locking mechanism.  

Nerys was sprawled happily along the middle of the mattress, making an effort not to pay much attention.  Despite this, she did cross her legs, for the same reason Julian remained slightly behind Miles as they approached - to feign modesty.

“Nerys,” Julian said pointedly, politely, “it’s… good to see you.”

“Shh,” she returned, and he took the warning immediately.

“You wouldn’t mind, Miles, would you?” Keiko asked quietly, returning to her place on the bed, between Nerys’s thighs.  With some coaxing, she spread them open again, and knelt down over her.

“Not at all,” Miles said, rushing to strip himself, _finally_.

Keiko had waited for them all to be together before giving Nerys any attention with her mouth - something Nerys protested, but understood.  So, now, she knelt and began this task eagerly, tracing along the ridges and nuzzling the upper end of Nerys’s slit with her nose.

The laughter Nerys gave in response was charming and utterly relaxed, improving the mood greatly.  Miles ushered Julian to the bed, too, and sat him down at Nerys’s side, unsure of what else to do with him just yet.  He did seem to need the guidance, no matter how hard he tried to appear otherwise. Suddenly, he was the most eager of students, all pretense and overcompensation gone from his posture, while Nerys, at the same time, became wholly soft and inviting.  Miles marvelled at this, the way the setting affected them positively, before he realized Keiko was addressing him.

“...and I don’t have _all_ night,” she said teasingly, “and you _know_ Julian doesn’t like--”

“Alright, alright,” he said, in a matching tone.  

“You know I didn’t mean it like _that_ , Miles.”

“Like what?” He asked, and she pouted until he added, “No, I know, I _know_ you didn’t.”

“I can, er…” Julian volunteered his services vaguely, fluttering his hand as he watched the scene unfold.  Nerys was not exactly looking _at_ him, as she twisted from side to side while Keiko went on tasting her, and Miles stroked himself in preparation.

In what he hoped was an encouraging manner, Miles reached out and touched Julian’s side, over one of his ribs.  Julian turned to look at him, trying to complete the original offer, but struggling.

“That’s alright, go on,” Miles said, scooting out of the way.

Keiko was exceptionally fond of Julian’s hands, and never tired of the gesture, no matter how many times he repeated it.  The first few times, Miles argued that his hands were just as adept, while Keiko conceded, but argued that Julian’s were _softer_.  Miles had gone from watching enviously to watching attentively, while Julian leaned in, held Keiko firmly around the waist, and began to touch her.  His palm crept upward softly, between her legs, and she knew immediately who it was.

“Thank you, Julian.”

“D-don’t mention it.”

While he did enjoy this, to some extent, it was more because he felt like an _expert_ than like an acceptable lover.  He liked to cause her to shiver, and moan, and rut her hips back against his fingers.  He knew precisely where to touch, and when, and _how_.  But upon reaching whatever objective he had in mind, he stopped and moved back, and let Miles take his place.  Keiko, of course, noticed the interruption, but did not let it affect her focus on Nerys, who was breathing quickly underneath her.

With the exception of Nerys, who was practically incapacitated by her pleasure, they moved often, into a variety of arrangements.  At one point, Miles knelt beside her, and leaned over to massage her shoulders and tease her breasts, which Julian immediately regretted offering advice for.  Still, it was obvious to all of them that Nerys _far_ preferred Keiko’s attention, and her whole appearance changed dramatically when the two of them were left alone again.  Miles sighed, not in defeat, but in a sense that they had all engaged in something beneficial and enjoyable together, that he and Keiko had found fulfillment in sharing the great capacity of their love.  And if, for this particular group of them, it manifested itself in lessons of self-awareness, so be it.

So, Miles sighed, and Julian looked at him.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” Miles offered, tipping his head forward to indicate Julian’s arousal.

“Oh… yes, thank you.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said sarcastically to Keiko, who had led Nerys nearly to orgasm, and had no intention of becoming distracted now.  He kissed her shoulder-blade before he departed, laying down with Julian on the other side of the bed, as Nerys trembled and _tried_ to restrain herself from taking up too much room.  

Nerys made a frown at this, and then a conscious effort to welcome Julian’s involvement, shaking as she reached for his wrist and set it down on her chest. He nodded in acceptance, enthusiastic as long as he pictured this as a fantasy from five years ago, when he was naive and Nerys would not have looked twice at him.  Closing his eyes for the sake of this indulgence, he softly kissed the swell at the underside of her breast, nuzzling and teasing with careful fingers while Miles waited patiently over him, and Nerys reached for Julian’s cheek, to keep him in place.

“Don’t worry,” Keiko assured, replacing her tongue with two fingers, sliding between the intimate ridges until Nerys had no hope of voicing a coherent answer.  “You take your time, _hava_.  I’m here with you.”

Julian felt a bit bad for being excluded, so he turned away from Nerys, and tried to stare intently up at Miles instead, after Keiko addressed Nerys in Bajoran and began to pepper her jawline with kisses.  He wanted… _that_ , almost identically.  At this, Miles sighed again, but more playfully.

“ _Come here_ ,” he said, and he gave Julian more or less what he wanted, softly kissing his face while reaching down to stroke him with his hand.  

Shakily, and still with his ancient fantasy in mind, Julian finished alongside Nerys, although much more subtly.  Her cries were louder and more impassioned - she liked to have Keiko _try_ to stifle her with deep kisses - while his were almost hesitant, wrapped in little mumbles of Miles’s name.

He wanted _that_.  Oh, he had enough, but he wanted to receive it differently.  It was something he struggled to explain, now that he had recognized it.  He had Miles to cup his cheek and ask if he was alright before settling down to sleep beside him, and he had Keiko to smile at him and lovingly clean him off, and he had both of them to _talk_ to.  But he did not have what Nerys had; he was certain of that, now.

Even though she had just been given _the same thing_.

“Did you want to stay?” Miles verified, as tonight’s way of asking if Julian was feeling well.  

“Hmm?  Oh, yes.  Thank you.”

Keiko had taken up the little slip of space in between them, shielding Nerys from view as she recovered, and turning over to touch Julian’s chest with a cleaning cloth she had already prepared, while Miles spoke to him.

“You and me can sleep in the other bedroom,” Miles offered.

Wishing them pleasant dreams, Keiko pecked each of them ‘goodnight’ on the cheek, and drew the blanket up to Nerys’s shoulder, before climbing beneath it to join her.

Back in the main bedroom, Julian was introspective as he took his pajamas from the dresser, shook them out, and put them on.  Miles maintained a considerate berth, and waited until Julian had made several attempts at making himself comfortable before joining him in bed.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

Julian was facing the opposing wall, but neither was bothered by the impossibility of making eye contact.  Miles simply slid up behind him, and held him securely around the midsection.

“I am, yes.  I just have… a lot to think about, right now.”

“Let me know if I can help,” Miles said quietly, as his mind dredged up every warning Keiko had ever given him about making Julian feel _overwhelmed_.  A lot of help that was, now.

“Oh, no, it isn’t anything you’ve done.  Don’t worry.”

“Something we _didn’t_ do?  You can _always_ ask t--”

“No, no,” Julian felt himself internally shrinking away from the situation, but did not try to correct this.  “I couldn’t explain if I tried.”

“Okay…” Miles said defeatedly, and loosening his grip.

“I’m very happy here, with you!” Julian immediately tried to right the situation, “and Keiko, and even Nerys, and--”

“And _what_?”

Miles spoke in a patient voice, and touched reassuringly, and genuinely meant no harm by this line of questioning; sometimes Julian needed to be guided along, whether he was speaking too much or too little.

Tilting his chin and catching the briefest, most obscured glance of Miles over his own shoulder, Julian sighed.

“I don’t know how long this will, er, work for me.”

“ _Julian_ ,” Miles said, before chuckling therapeutically to himself, “you aren’t breaking up with me in _my own bed_ , are you?”

“No, no!” Julian repeated, more forcefully this time. “I would _never_.”

“Damn,” Miles joked, “then I’d at least have the satisfaction of telling Keiko you _are_ the cold, aloof playboy type.  She doesn’t see it.”

“I was… just…?”

“Saying something,” Miles supplied for him, “ _go on_.”

“I only meant I… can’t see myself staying here, with you, like this, _forever_ ,” Julian babbled, and Miles fondly clicked his tongue and pulled himself in closer.

“You don’t _have to_ , you know.  We don’t even _expect_ you to, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Really?”

It was customary for both of them, in their own separate ways, to remain affectionate after intimacy, so when Miles tugged at Julian’s sleeve, slipping it down enough to kiss his shoulder, Julian did not interrupt him.  He kissed between thoughts and words, bridging them, conveying them.

“Of course not--” _smooch_ , “--we just want you to be able to--” _smooch_ , “--have fun and feel… safe, and--” _smooch_ , “I mean--” he tucked Julian’s hair between his fingers, to access the nape of his neck, “--it’s not like we wanted you to marry us.”

“And that’s the difference, then, is it?”

“Yeah,” Miles said quietly, toying with Julian’s curls now, “we want to love and support you in whatever ways are best _for you_.”

“Hmm…”

“Within reason,” Miles amended quickly, knowing Julian tended to think in immediate extremes.

“...of course,” Julian said, caught out.

“And to be honest,” Miles went on, rubbing Julian’s shoulder and encouraging him to roll over, so they could finally face one another, “it’s a good sign we can talk about it.  Maybe Keiko’s better at it, but this is _good_.”

“Well, I won’t give her the satisfaction,” Julian added to the teasing, and to the kissing, drawing himself in and nipping tenderly at Miles’s jaw.


	5. Gentleness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt 'gentleness' :) as if this hasn't been gentle all along, *my faaave*

Julian did not feel guilty about receiving attention, and in fact enjoyed it immensely.  So, when Miles offered to take him on the couple’s next planetside vacation, he agreed with very little hesitation.  They wanted a chance to focus _just_ on him, even if only for a few days, to better gauge his needs and comforts, and provide for them accordingly.  In the past, they had also offered this to Nerys, but she felt like a burden and refused; Julian did not. He agreed before Miles had even finished packing his own suitcase, which Keiko contentedly did for him while he and Julian went to secure a runabout.  

The trip there was underlined by quiet, anticipatory tension, where Julian paced and chattered and occasionally remembered to sit in the navigator’s chair, and Miles and Keiko spent a good deal of time watching him and smiling to each other.  It was only set to be a short excursion, a few days at a woodland retreat on Bajor, but it could have been a year on a newly-discovered moon, and Julian would have felt the same.

“Excited?” Keiko asked him.  

He was sitting in his proper chair, doing some illustration with his hands over a topography chart, and Miles turned to roll his eyes at her, for prodding what was obviously a hot fire.

“Oh, yes, _very_ ,” Julian said.

“Yeah, Nerys says the cabins up there are lovely,” Miles added.

“You’ve never been?” Keiko asked both of them.

“I _know_ we told you,” Miles answered.  “She went to see Shakaar at the capital, instead.”

Julian simply shook his head, and went back to studying the readings on his computer panel.

“That’s when she was pregnant,” Miles went on, “and we didn’t want to go anywhere _romantic_ because she was having a hard enough time as it was, and--”

“That’s right, you _did_ tell me.”

Satisfied, Keiko stood and approached from her place behind their seats, reaching for Miles’s headrest, grabbing it and turning his chair toward herself.  She slid into his lap easily, and he mumbled something about this being unsafe, before giving up and bracing her in his arms as a compromise.

“You see, Julian?” Miles asked, glancing over through a faceful of Keiko’s hair and her flowing scarf, “she’s been trying to set me up with _everyone_ for _months_.  Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Julian laughed nervously, and volunteered to pilot the craft the rest of the way.

The Musillan cabin was a small, cramped, but tidy place.  Inside the house, flowering vines had grown through the ceiling rafters, and potted plants filled every corner of the floorboards.  All around, the air was warm and humid, even with the indoor fans running at their highest setting. But it was still cozy and comfortable, and just as romantic as Nerys had once described.  It contained only the most comparatively basic technology, forcing its visitors to focus on the surrounding nature, and on each other.

After setting down everyone’s cases in the bedroom, Julian met them in the main living area, studying the darkened windows all around.  He pulled open the thick curtain on one of them, a small oval-shaped one near his eye level, and noticed there was a pool in the back garden.  At this point, he had not given a single _thought_ to intimacy, and was merely _excited_ to be with his friends, his mutual lovers, on a clandestine little outing.  So the murky water of the root-surrounded pool did not deter him in the slightest, and he asked, outright, if anyone wanted to join him for a swim.

“Not much space to _swim_ really, is there?” Miles asked, in a friendly voice.  

But he and Keiko still agreed, not only to indulge Julian, but because they were genuinely curious.  

“Aren’t there supposed to be hot springs?” Keiko asked, sorting through her overheard memories of the location.

That settled it.

They went outside and undressed, with Julian only feeling bashful for a _moment_ , this time, then draped their clothes over tree branches, shading them from overhead.  The water was pleasantly heated, bubbling and swirling upward from the soft earth below.  Julian sat down carefully inside it, scooting aside to make room for his partners, and playing absently with the soft clay from the base.  Then, he dropped the handful he had scooped up and patted it back into place, while Miles and Keiko made themselves comfortable, reclining with their arms behind one another’s shoulders.  

“It’s okay, Julian,” Keiko assured him, “don’t feel excluded on _our_ account.  If it makes you uncomfortable, _sure_ , but--”

“I’m sorry, thank you,” he replied, nestling into place between them, and promptly receiving confirmation, as each of them began to stroke him and shower him with little kisses.

“What did you want to talk to us about?” Keiko asked, pulling back and toying with a curl of his hair.  

Miles paused and looked at her apologetically, and Julian turned his head to look at each of them, in turn.

“ _Miles_ ,” Keiko drawled, “said that something was bothering you last time you came over, and you wanted to spend time _alone_ with us.”

“Sorry,” Miles said, for not warning Keiko and for not protecting Julian.

“Oh, that was all of it, really,” Julian said.  “Nerys and I… we tried to figure something out, we’re going to keep talking about it, but I… rather liked being able to _just_ see you.”

“That’s fine,” Miles maintained this belief.  “I’m proud to see both of you tried it, anyway.”

“You’ll be seeing a lot of _just us_ for the next three days,” Keiko smiled and tugged his hair gently, tipping his chin back enough for a kiss.

His eyes shut gradually, and he sighed in utter relaxation, allowing Keiko to continue playing with him, pulling his hair and digging her fingernails gently into his chin and throat to guide him.  

The rest of their first day maintained this tender tone, and heightened it.  After they stepped out of the pool, they began to pat each other dry, and realized the water, however soothing, was gritty and more like mud.  Miles made mention of a shower cubicle inside, and Julian was feeling relaxed, and loved, so he invited himself in with them. Granted, the invitation was one that always stood, but he worried about overstepping this boundary at home, where the couple bathed and showered together frequently.  Nerys had been known to join them, too, and he was feeling _delighted_ about finally securing himself a turn.

The stall was only marginally larger than the allotted ones on the station, hardly ideal for all three of them to use at once.  But the decision had been made, and they were too excited to think practically.

Keiko stood beneath the water first, requiring more time and attention to work the grit out of her hair.  She had spent the afternoon leaning over the tree roots, collecting all manner of twigs and bramble in her hair, and she directed the men to help her sort through it, listening to them bicker aimlessly about whose fingers were capable of more precise movement.  There was not a losing party, in this case.

For Miles, the gentle, searching strokes through her hair turned into giggles and expectant kisses, until he pressed her against the wall so he could use some of the water for himself.  She folded one leg, bracing herself against a corner to keep from slipping, and Miles began to tease her with his fingers, as he had done dozens of times before, at home. Somehow, while Julian observed this, he felt as if he had been present for all of these scenes, and he did not feel like an inconvenience now.

Keiko continued giggling into uneven moans, and said Julian’s name several times, until Miles sighed good-naturedly and turned to look over his shoulder at the other man, who was still mostly dry.

“Alright, come on,” Miles said, nudging him forward.  

The three of them crowded together on the wetter side of the shower, laughing and sharing kisses, and lathering each other’s hair with shampoo.  When Keiko’s was finally acceptably clean, she relented and moved to the other side, and glanced out through the glass, deep in thought.

“Go ahead, don’t let me stop you,” she said. “I’m just going to grab something…”

Miles followed this instruction without a second thought, massaging soap into Julian’s shoulders, smiling when Julian rolled them back to meet him.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Miles observed.

Julian nodded, fumbled with his words and decided to say nothing, and leaned in for a peck on the cheek, which confirmed Miles’s appraisal just as well.  He spread his stance, tucking one of Miles’s thighs between both of his own, prepared to deny any self-deprecation Miles might give, but none came. They pressed softly, eagerly against each other, creating gentle friction, until Keiko returned.  She made her interruption as brief as possible, shedding the towel she had wrapped over herself, opening the shower door and then nearly slamming it, and reaching for Julian’s hand behind his back, letting him feel what she had brought back.

His fingers stroked stiff silicone, which Keiko had already hastily prepared with some lubrication, catching in between… yes, he stroked again, _ridges_.  Small, articulated ovals, running along the underside of the toy, coated with warming lube.  Keiko’s fingers met his, there, collecting some of the extra, and as he put the pieces together, his breath stalled, and Miles pulled away from him, as a result.

Julian blinked upward, against the flow of water, shaking his head, while Keiko touched his waist and pulled him backward, so her preparations would not be done in vain.  

“Only if you _want to_ ,” she said to him, quietly, leaning in to speak against his ear.  

He shuddered and agreed, and Miles tried to watch over his shoulder, as Julian led Keiko through the rest of his preparation, keeping their fingers softly linked.

“Is that…?” Miles began to ask, as he noticed a brief flash of the silvery toy in Keiko’s hand.

“Yes, Miles,” she said curtly, focusing more on giving Julian the care he needed, feeling the way his breath hitched by touching his back, his chest, his neck…

“ _Honestly_ ,” Miles sighed.  

Julian was resting his head over Keiko’s shoulder, letting her stroke and touch him however she pleased with one hand, while the other carefully withdrew from his entrance.

“Honestly,” Keiko replied, nodding slightly to indicate how _relaxed_ Julian seemed to be, unwilling to undo their collective progress.  “He _likes_ the feeling of it, and _you_ don’t have to touch it.”

“Did you put that into _my_ suitcase?” Miles asked, still skeptical.

“Sure I did.  What, what’s _that_ face for?  It’s _perfectly clean_.”

“Is it that Cardassian one?   _Keiko_ …!”

Julian stirred slightly, leaning forward instead of back, bracing himself reluctantly on Miles’s shoulders, while Keiko let him feel the head of the toy against his rear, gradually pressing inward.  He tensed and then apologized, and Miles held him, and they all tried again.

“Y-yes,” Julian bit his lip and said, when he felt the shape of the toy more intimately, and could not deny the design of it.  

Miles held his shoulders tighter, and rolled his eyes again at Keiko.

“Why don’t you do something _you_ enjoy?” Keiko said, in a tone just above teasing.  

“I’m enjoying myself just _fine_ ,” Miles returned.  “What have you got against foreplay all the sudden, anyway?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Keiko demonstrated her meaning by moving even more slowly, and pulling back gently on Julian’s hair as she did so, baring his throat for a kiss.  

“I-I’m all right,” Julian said, hoping to quiet them, but also because it was true.

The toy was not any larger than he could take comfortably, and Keiko always followed his instructions and requests to the letter.  And even though she had heard them before, she let him voice them anew each session without pestering him, and he found that fact greatly comforting.  Miles might tease her - or both of them - over this, but he, too, was careful and held Julian’s needs in the highest regard.

But the singular fact that occurred to Julian _now_ , was that he was perfectly equipped to accommodate a _Cardassian_.  He could not think of anything else, and it… for some reason, did not worry him.  For a moment, his mind flicked to Garak, and he _did_ attempt to dismiss this, focusing not on his enjoyment, but on whatever facts and figures he could distract himself with; Cardassians - _not just Garak_ \- were not a notoriously well-endowed race, due to their genitalia  being retained internally except in the case of arousal, and the ridges would sometimes flare after penetration, he had _read_ about this....

He did not think of _Garak_ again until his enjoyment overpowered his rationalization, and everything became quite difficult to differentiate.  

Keiko moved and handled him in a familiar, charming, and desperately cunning way.  She never tugged his hair too hard, or moved the toy too quickly, but her command over him was clear, and _careful_ , and he found himself willingly enraptured, caught up in the game they were playing together.  Miles, meanwhile, was certainly one to argue for the sake of arguing, but there was genuine care beneath this, too.  There was also some physical similarity, which Julian’s mind helpfully supplied from the times he had provided medical care for Miles and for Garak, and which he was reminded of when Miles’s hands drew together near his navel, touching in a not-obviously-envious way, hesitant but studious.  There was not a man more delightfully average than Miles, nor a man more insistent on being average than Garak. Julian wondered what he saw in any of them, what any of them saw in him.

Gradually, Miles made himself comfortable on his knees, catching the majority of the flow of water, keeping his hands braced tightly over each of Julian’s hips, nestling neatly into the bones.  He nuzzled and kissed his way from Julian’s navel to his shaft, while Julian gasped at the combined and beautifully contrasted stimulation he was being given. Keiko had worked the toy backward again, pausing with the tip of it remaining barely concealed, as she waited for Miles to begin.  She had every intention of building toward Julian’s orgasm gradually, pausing and de-escalating before beginning again; they might even finish their shower before he was brought to completion. She considered this fondly, and stroked his sides, hands occasionally crossing paths with her husband’s, while Miles aligned his lips with Julian’s erection, taking him inside slowly.  

Julian shivered, and Keiko used this precise moment to drive the toy forward again, stroking him deeply, making him cry out, while Miles responded with ever more soothing licks and kisses.  He felt as though he was being mastered by a single entity, their movements were so expertly aligned.

He felt as though he was being taken, instead, by Garak.

And, lacking anything to replace this fantasy with, he shut his eyes and left his feelings in the control of his lovers.

“Mmmhhh,” he sighed, and Keiko only kissed him after she was sure he had taken in the deep breath he needed.  Then she withdrew the toy, again, and he could have begged for reversal.

She knew this, and shook her head at him, while she soothed him with lingering touches over his shoulder and chest.

“Bedroom?” she suggested.

Julian was aware of Miles groaning around him in disagreement, even though it felt _divine_ from his angle, before Miles pulled himself away, and up again.  

After Miles switched off the water, they stepped out of the cubicle and onto a little mat.  Keiko set the toy aside to gather towels for them, and in some silent arrangement which Julian marveled at and then immediately benefited from, she began to pat and rub him dry while Miles knelt to continue his task.  Every so often, she would reach around with the corners of the towel, touching Miles’s hair or poking at his temple, and Julian would benefit from the annoyed noises Miles made. She remained close behind Julian, steadying him, touching him tenderly whenever and wherever his muscles tensed, and Miles continued on in much the same way.  Nothing was voiced for a long while, and Julian lured himself further into the illusion that he was being handled by a single, long-term partner; who else could move so seamlessly, and address his needs before he could voice them, himself?

Keiko was the next to speak, and she seemed reluctant to do so.  Julian had been dry for a few minutes already, and she was leaning lightly against his shoulder, watching Miles, and playing with Julian’s hair idly between her fingers, listening to the wonderful sighs this drew from deep in his throat.

“Miles,” she said, clearing her throat.  “ _Miles_.”

This was direction enough.  Keeping his grip on Julian’s thighs, he slowly stood up and met her gaze over Julian’s shoulder, each of them leaning forward to compensate for his height.  He did not know what else to do with himself, besides give a sheepish little grin and matching laughter, feeling as relaxed and loved as he was in that moment.  

The three of them went to the bedroom, nudging their suitcases out of the way beneath the bed-frame, before slowly sitting down, testing the creak of the mattress.  Its frame was wooden and sturdy, and the mattress itself was thick and plush, and covered in several layers of soft blankets, all rolled up to various heights. Julian drew his hand over each in turn, and was pleasantly surprised by the texture.  This could be very nice, he thought, as the silent encounter continued.

Keiko was coaxing him to lie down on his back, and when he did so, he could distinctly feel each different layer of fabric, tickling his shoulder-blades, his waist, the backs of his knees…

As he was considering this, the delightful contrast that pulled him into _just_ enough awareness of his surroundings, Keiko knelt alongside him and nudged his legs apart, one at a time.  Miles arrived to mirror her, and waited for her to return his inquisitive nod before he bent low and took Julian’s length into his mouth a final time.  But he sat on Julian’s side, and there was nothing _forcing_ Julian to maintain the widened stance, until Keiko picked up the toy again, and held it up enough to show him.  

“ _Oh-hh_ ,” he hummed at the sight of it, and flattened his head to the pillow eagerly, mentally preparing himself.

Miles’s lips crept slowly downward, until Julian felt the tip of his nose against his own abdomen, and Keiko enhanced the feeling perfectly with her voice.

“You’re doing _so well_ , Julian,” she told him, softly, as she worked the silicone inside him once more.

His hips jerked upward at this, beyond his better judgement, and Miles scoffed at him, _around_ him.

“S-sorry, I--”

“That’s all right,” Keiko affirmed, and he did not know how to feel.

What he was doing, instead of feeling, was thinking of Garak - _again_ \- and how nice it might be to imagine these words in his voice, in that charming cadence of his, that gently commanding tone…

Julian was snapped to attention not by the approaching wave of his orgasm alone, but by Keiko registering this, based on Miles’s reaction, and removing the toy.  She drew it out of him slowly, letting him _feel_ each individual bump of the ridging, stroking along his flesh and flaring him wide in his anticipation.  It remained there, pressed firmly against his entrance, but no further. Miles did not _need_ to see the thing, nor did he really want to, but he could not resist pulling back to take a look, anyway, unclasping his lips with a gentle _pop_ and then teasingly licking a missed thread of semen from the glans.  Julian shuddered; despite the humidity, the air felt suddenly cool around him, in the absence of attention.  He felt quite clearly focused, then; he could have said any number of things, but the silence was precious.

Miles and Keiko still barely spoke to each other, and after a series of hummed noises and pointed nods, Julian received both of them, again, at once.  He gripped the sheets to either side of himself, where the duvet was neatly folded, wrinkling it and creasing it and yanking it up from its setting. When Keiko began to thrust the toy more deeply inside, he could not stop his hips from thrashing, and loosening the next layer of blankets, too.  Miles, meanwhile, had to compensate for this, and relaxed his lips, holding Julian’s base firmly in hand and running the head repeatedly against the roof of his mouth. The ridging of his palate felt like the ridging of the toy, and Julian made a quiet, breathy plea for ‘ _more_.’

Keiko oversaw all of this with pride.

“Hmm,” she sighed in satisfaction, and bowed low enough to kiss Julian’s chest, cupping the mark with her palm immediately afterward.  “ _Very_ nice, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” Julian struggled to even nod, and his efforts were either further derailed or handsomely rewarded by Keiko’s next move, perhaps both.

The angular hook of the toy nudged his prostate ever so gently, making him _sob_ and slam his hips down for more.  Keiko’s fingers tapped their way down from his chest to just above his shaft, tucking between curls of his hair before crawling upward to Miles’s, tousling it.  She kept the two of them in close contact, forcing Julian to roll upward while drawing Miles downward, and she gave reassuring kisses to each of them, wherever she could reach.

Unclasping her lips leisurely from Julian’s thigh, she grinned at him, and sped up the strokes of the toy.  He panted and focused intently on remaining still, so he would not hurt Miles or disappoint Keiko. His eyes remained clenched shut, and he tried to relax his stance, unclench his muscles, let the _feeling_ wash over him.

She paused again, forcing him to stagnate on the way to his orgasm, holding himself still and letting the temptation wash past.  That was love as much as torture, and so very…

“ _Very_ good, my dear,” Keiko purred at him, and he had no hope of holding back.

He squeezed the sheets tightly, flattening his back but arching up his hips, and came in crooked lines along the roof of Miles’s mouth.  In unison, Miles went on bobbing his head, and Keiko went on thrusting the toy, until Julian was thoroughly spent.

“ _Honestly,_ ” Miles said again, but his voice was light and his face was pleasantly flushed and ruddy, and he sighed before cupping Julian gently in hand, ensuring he was relaxed, too.

Swallowing stiffly several times, Miles brought himself to rest at Julian’s other side, where Keiko was carefully slipping the toy out and stretching her arm to set it on the dresser.  

“You all right?” Miles asked, quirking one sweat-glossed brow at Julian, who nodded quietly and kept his own eyes shut.

“Yes…” he said, “ _oh_ , yes, th-thank you…”

“Don’t mention it,” Miles teased.

“Uhm…” Julian began to speak, but took Miles’s words more warningly than they were intended, and then quieted himself.

“Just relax, dear,” Keiko repeated, and Julian tensed up again, touching himself in apology.

Thoughts and feelings were still occuring to him in uneven bursts, and now that he was physically unoccupied, and had the ability to begin processing them and sorting them out, he found he did not want to.  Laying still on his back was not sufficient distraction, so he sat up as Keiko was helping herself into Miles’s lap, and he tried to make himself useful. They became more talkative now, alternately welcoming his touch and insisting he get his rest - they would be back beside him shortly, and they could all use some sleep.

He nodded in quiet ignorance of all they said, and leaned his chest into Keiko’s back, reaching over her shoulders to hold Miles’s, as the two of them made love.  Distractedly, but with a great deal of affection, he kissed Keiko’s neck, leaning in to touch her throat when he heard an encouraging moan. He liked to feel her breathing, and knew precisely when to help lower her down again, after Miles had finished, and intended to give her the rest of what she needed through his fingers.  

Julian’s crawled in alongside them, and Miles gave him a quizzical look, but did not stop him. 

“I guess that’s fair,” he teased.  “What do you think, Keiko?”

“Mmhmm…” she relaxed into their distinctly different approaches, and did not last much longer, herself.

Still glowing in their new and deeply domestic arrangement, Julian volunteered more eagerly than usual to clean everyone off for bed.

“We just had a shower,” Miles said, because he knew this got on Julian’s nerves.

While Julian grinned and giggled reluctantly, and expertly stroked and massaged Keiko until she was comfortable and clean, Miles leaned over the side of the bed and dug through his suitcase for a climate-controlled packet, with two bottles and three glasses inside of it.

Julian watched him as he peeled this open, and approached him cautiously as he removed one of the glasses and held it at eye level, counting the measurement lines that ran up the side of it.

“If you’d like to, um, rinse your mouth, I’d be--” Julian began, and Miles turned to watch him, amused.

“Yeah, sure,” Miles remarked casually, “with brandy.  You want some? It’s real.”

“Yes, definitely,” Julian replied.

He arranged the pillows against the headboard, then sat against them, beside Keiko, and waited for Miles to finish serving their drinks.  The sweet, nutty scent of spiced cream and cognac was a pleasant one, and Julian held the glass near his nose to smell it before taking a sip from the shaken foam.  Keiko and Miles _clinked_ their glasses together before drinking from them, and Julian offered his to the motion afterward.

They all reclined together and drank slowly, leisurely, letting the warmth from their activity glow between their bodies.  Julian stared into his glass when it was empty, and declined Miles’s offer of a refill.

“I, uhm…” Julian began, “I don’t _want to_ talk about it, but there’s something I _should_ talk to you about, if you… don’t mind?”

Keiko nuzzled his shoulder and encouraged him to go on, feeling somewhat prepared for his forthcoming confession already.  She had planned this particular trip too carefully to be caught off guard, at this point. Miles had discussed some aspects of it with her beforehand, having mentioned Julian’s mood when Nerys had visited, sounding hopeless at progressing into the role they expected of him.  Granted, he did not include a Cardassian sex toy in his remedy of the problem, but sometimes Keiko _did_ get better results than he did, alone.

“We want you to be happy,” Keiko said gently.  “Like Miles _should’ve_ told you before: we don’t expect you to stay with us forever.  We just want you to have _fun_ and feel _comfortable_ , for as long as you want to stay.  Is that what you _didn’t_ want to talk about?”

“...yes,” Julian replied, quiet but convinced.

“If we’ve been able to help you figure out _anything_ about yourself along the way, that’s just an unexpected bonus,” Keiko went on, “and our pleasure.”

Miles buried his gaze deep into the foam of his drink, as it clung to the otherwise dry bottom of his glass.  He was sad to see Julian go, begrudgingly holding open the metaphorical door for him, but maybe it was time. Maybe a few months was not so bad, if it did not come at the expense of their friendship.  Keiko had to reach over Julian to nudge his arm and cajole him into voicing any of this.

“We don’t want you to resent us,” said Miles.  

“Oh, I would _never_ ,” Julian assured.  “How could I? You’ve been nothing but, but--”

“It can happen,” Miles said, in conclusion.  

He poured himself another drink and made a second offer to refresh Julian’s, who agreed to it, this time.

“No, not to us,” Julian said decisively.  

Keiko reached over to nudge Miles’s arm again, to convey the fact her feelings about Julian had been right all along; Miles was not ready to argue.


	6. Cultural Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt 'cultural differences' which can also be found in almost every chapter so far :p Love these aliens.

The other two days of their excursion passed quickly, and left all of them feeling not perfectly satisfied, but close enough to stretch and ache for the rest.  Julian came away feeling more confident in pursuing a long-term relationship, finding what he craved for himself, and then realizing there were so many possibilities, newly-opened.  He tried not to think about Garak too seriously, in this regard.

Keiko was pleased to have performed a service, working through an entire relationship without the feelings changing for the worst.  She felt the same excitement and attraction and _pride_ with Julian now as she did when they first successfully invited him over.  Miles was not quite ready to see his hard work exploited by some undeserving fourth-party, and he could not think of anyone more undeserving than Garak, who had been teasing and leading the poor man along for years.  At least Miles had the decency to ask him directly… after a few months of struggling and debating with Keiko.

He crossed his arms and sighed for much of the trip home, watching as Julian handled both the piloting and navigation terminals.  

“I can… still come over though, can’t I?” Julian asked timidly, watching as Keiko tried consoling Miles with an inconspicuous massage.  

“Yeah, of course you can,” Miles mumbled, reaching up to catch Keiko’s hand over his shoulder.

“A-and we don’t need to stop our weekly programs, or darts, or--?”

“No, not at all.”

“It’ll take time,” Keiko soothed.  

It certainly would be different, to ease out of a more intensive relationship and back into a casual, longstanding one.  Some little details might be lost along the way, uncomfortable to pick up again or even search for, but Julian did his best to remain optimistic.  These were his _dearest friends_.  If they worked together, surely they could emerge from this respectfully, without any more interpersonal awkwardness than Julian was accustomed to already.  But he was confident they could still talk, and play darts, and order holoprograms; he realized, too, that he and Keiko did not have any special activities to call their own and wondered how he might remedy this in the coming weeks, if this might make the separation easier.  Julian did not think this was possible, from his experience in mapping out more conventional relationships, but he was willing to try, anyway.

Before he even thought to go to his own cabin, he returned instinctively on the O’Briens’ heels, towing their luggage and offering to help put things away.  Nerys and the children greeted them at the door, with a small fanfare of giggles, while Julian ducked past them, down the hallway, and into the main bedroom to deposit some of his things.  This was a trial in itself; he had to revise the items he kept here, but he wanted to do it gradually. Was it suddenly rude to keep a set of his pajamas in the laundry chute for later? Should he insist they keep the rest of their brandy even though they volunteered the half-bottle as a parting gift?  He asked himself a dozen times, as he dug through his suitcase, which items they needed more, here, than he did, _home_.

He liked the idea of having a home.

After sorting out a few casual compromises - a toothbrush, a single set of his off-duty clothes, a lapel-pin he and Miles had passed off throughout their programs for years as a joke - he shouldered his bag and departed, nodding polite goodbyes to Keiko and Miles, hugging Molly and grinning widely for Yoshi.  He did not expect Nerys to follow him out. But she had said her own goodbyes while he was hovering between the bedroom and bathroom, depositing his things, and expressed that - while she loved the children - she was ready for a little break of her own.

“I was just planning to use the replicator tonight for dinner, anyway,” Keiko said, excusing both Julian and Nerys, and also inviting them back the next time she made a family dinner; Julian appreciated the subtle way she conveyed multiple thoughts at once.

Miles was a good deal more direct, when she required him to be, and simply thanked Julian for coming and Nerys for minding the house.

Nerys trailed a few steps behind him, but had no desire to seem like she was doing anything secretive.  With a few faster paces, she matched his longer strides, and remained beside him.  He continued glancing at the ground before managing to give her the attention that was reasonably expected.

“Major…” he said, erring on the side of formality, “It’s good to see you.  Are you feeling well?”

“Fine.”

He paused to study her demeanor more carefully, and gave his official diagnosis as, “Hmm.  You look like you need to talk to someone. About… something… personal?”

“Something _specific_ ,” she agreed.

“You can come with me to my quarters!” he interrupted, and then amended for the sake of propriety, “O-or the Infirmary; I’m not due back until tomorrow morning, but if you’d prefer somewhere more public, I could--”

“Thank you, Doctor.  I wouldn’t,” she said, following him to his cabin, instead.

Nerys had been inside before, but each visit made her more surprised at how sparse his rooms were kept.  He had gathered up symbols of home - only a few - and some tokens from past _adventures_ , but beyond that, the shelves were stocked with regulation items, and nothing more.  Of course, she tried to make her own quarters feel as comfortable and homey as possible, bringing in her own carpets and cushions, arranging and decorating her altar for prayer, keeping a variety of candles and herbs to make her feel like she was anywhere but on a Cardassian space station.  Maybe Julian was indifferent to the setting, or considered it with the same fondness as _home_.  Nerys did not want to worry about this too long or too seriously, and felt some relief when Julian took her into his dining room to sit down.  

The chairs were standard, made from ore the station had processed in its past, but Julian did at least keep the table covered with an elegant fabric runner, a set of placemats, and accenting cloth napkins.  Garak had made all of these, as an excuse for any number of favors, but they did make Nerys feel like she was in _someone’s_ home.

He set his bag down on the chair nearest to the door, which he never used for sitting in, and stood by the replicator, offering food or drink if the Major wanted it, but she declined.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” she explained, “it’s just… about the O’Briens…”

“I thought so,” he said, trying to decide what he wanted to eat.  He settled on crepes with tulaberry syrup, promptly apologized, and then began to eat after Nerys insisted it was fine for him to do so.

“...and me,” Nerys concluded.

“How so?”

“It isn’t what I expected.”

She uncrossed her legs and slumped forward just slightly, which Julian did not mind at all.  The proximity made things feel more personal, more important. Which, in his barren quarters, was significant for both of them  

“ _How so_?” he repeated, swirling his fork in the basin of syrup before stabbing it through his next bite of food.  

“I don’t know.  I thought about it a lot while they were gone, how I’ve always kind of… expected myself to have a have a husband and children someday.  I never thought about _when_ , just kept pushing it off for _someday_.”

“I can understand that,” Julian agreed.  “And being with them has made you consider ‘someday’ as sooner, rather than later?”

“No.  More like ‘never.’”

He watched a thread of syrup weigh itself down as he lifted his fork, until it stretched to its limit, breaking and splashing back into the little cup.  This topic would require delicate attention, so he naturally stalled and expended it elsewhere. But they knew each other well enough, and Kira cleared her throat, making his gaze jump upward to match hers, and she repeated her statement.

“Well, that’s… that’s perfectly alright, as well.  There’s no _law_ saying you need to settle down and have children, unless I know even fewer facts about Bajoran history than I thought.”

“No, it’s not a law.  I just… expected it, of myself.  But I don’t _feel_ the same way about those two as I have in any other relationship I’ve ever been in.”

Taking a moment to process this, and another slow bite, he replied.

“I’m not sure I follow.  I thought you had a _deep respect_ for Miles and Keiko, and surely the children are part of--”

“I _adore_ Keiko,” Nerys interrupted, shaking her head.  “I’ve never--”

“--felt that way about a man, before,” Julian supplied.

“Miles is--”

“--different, sure.  But your preference is obvious, Nerys.  And that’s--”

“ _Julian_ ,” she held her hand up, to slow him down.  “It’s not that simple. Will you please _listen_ to me?”

He swallowed and nodded mutely, mirroring her hand gesture, inviting her to continue.  

“I don’t… she isn’t… she’s _wonderful_ , but she isn’t _exactly_ what I’d expect from a woman, if she were Bajoran.  So I’m not… necessarily attracted to… never mind; I don’t know either.”

“Of course there’s some difference in expectation!” Julian said excitedly, his mouth still full.  “There wouldn’t be any _point_  really, if every humanoid culture was exactly the _same_.”

Once the prongs of it were empty, Julian made a vague gesture with his fork, glossing over the many cultures in question as if they occupied a physical space in his dining room.

“And even with human culture becoming more homogenized in recent centuries,” he went on, “we’ve only been challenging and redefining those ‘expectations’ for a relatively short time, ourselves.  Essentially, what I’m saying is: it’s _perfectly normal_ to be confused, and you should be more concerned with finding a partner who loves you for who you are, rather than what they _expect_ of you.”

Nerys took the words in quietly, her eyes wide and unblinking for a long moment.  Julian observed her with caution and professional restraint, and took a break from eating.  He was thinking about some disparities of his own personal involvement. Namely, how he would be viewed according to Cardassian expectation.  Certainly he could pass as their ideal _feminine,_ since he was foremost a scientist, and also known to be outspoken and unwavering, but polite when circumstances demanded it.  If Garak felt any attraction to _him_ , surely confusion would arise there, too, and maybe then--

His thoughts were interrupted by Nerys, making a quiet guess at their very contents, which Julian shook his head at.

“Are you thinking about when I kissed you?” she asked, “I’m sorry if I made--”

“No, no.  That’s alright.  Often, matters of identity require some kind of experimentation.”

“That’s not it,” Nerys said, sounding entirely convinced.  “I’ve been in relationships with men before, and--”

“Well,” Julian spoke cautiously, but knew he had the upper hand, “I’d say - beyond a few physical similarities here and there - I’m not _necessarily_ a ‘man’ to you.  I might be nothing at all.”

To further illustrate his point, he paused for a moment, setting aside his plate, and then asked her a deceptively simple question.

“Would you say you see Keiko as a _Bajoran masculine_?”

He was grateful to see her give this the due time and consideration he had hoped for, resting her head against one hand, elbow propped on the table, while she thought.  

“No.  I’ve never been so… _excited_ with any of the Bajoran men I’ve been with, before.  I’ve felt kind of… subdued? And I thought that was normal, but… Keiko makes me feel--”

“More like yourself,” Julian concluded, grinning.

As ever, Nerys was reluctant to fuel Julian’s ego, but she did eventually agree to his observation.  Julian went on smiling, reaching out to pick idly at his plate of crepes, and thinking about the recent enlightenment he had reached on his vacation.  Some of it might be helpful, if he could find the right words, and get _all_ impressions of Garak out of them.  He was not even sure how he could face that man, now, having fantasized about him in vivid and anatomically correct detail.

Julian shook his head, lifting himself from this haze.  He scrunched up his cloth napkin between his thumb and forefinger, scraping off some syrup he had caught on his fingertips during his most recent survey of his plate.  The feeling was not a pleasant one, and ordinarily he would have wet his fingers with a swipe of his tongue, first, but he had company, and at least _some_ professional decency to maintain.  Maybe, if the company had been Garak, and that stickiness had been-- _no, no, no_ , he thought, agitated with himself.

“The most important thing to remember is how a relationship makes you feel,” Julian said.  “You should feel, er - _safe_ \- to address anything that’s troubling you, and you should be able to speak to one another _directly_.”

“Shakaar and I..." she began, voice shaky with passion rather than any real hesitation, “I should _tell_ him.”

Julian raised one shoulder into a shrug, but stopped himself from completing the gesture.  He had better make another pass at his plate, he thought, so he would not look too out of place.

“Yes, it’s… I’ve found it’s _better_ to be upfront in any new stage of a relationship.  In, er…” he pressed his forehead into his hand, “... _my_ experience, that means beginnings and endings, at least, but if there’s some other step along the way…”

“I was thinking about an ending,” Nerys clarified.  “But I barely see him as it is. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just--”

“You’ll manage.  You’re the most direct person I know.”

She turned her face gradually toward his, and gave him a single, disbelieving breath.  Almost like a laugh, but clearly unamused.

“I was thinking the same about you, but now I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or not.”

“Sorry.”

“You and Shakaar have a lot in common,” she decided.  “You’re a _slightly_ better listener.”

But if she was intending to sever their relationship, Julian was not sure how _this_ could possibly count as a compliment, either.  Still, he nodded in acceptance of it, and tried again to be _helpful_.

“You should go after what makes you happy,” he said, consciously trying not to reflect too long on any one partner, swapping half-made images of Miles, Keiko, and Garak as well as he could.  “And leave behind anything that doesn’t.  If Shakaar is anything like _me_ , he’ll want you to be happy, and he’ll understand.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said, standing up and pushing her chair in beneath the table.  “Thank you for your help, Julian. I do appreciate it, honestly.”

He gave a nervous little laugh and got up from his own chair, and followed her to the door.

“That’s alright.  It’s all things I learned when I was with Miles and Keiko, myself.  Talk to them about it, if you’re still… not sure.”

“I’ll do that,” she said, wary of his usage of past tense language, but not wanting to hurt him by asking.  

“They’re good people,” he said, nodding.

He activated the sensor on the front door, thanked Nerys for joining him and trusting him, and said ‘goodbye’ again, too many times for one day.  Seeing the discomfort in his face, and in the way he crossed his arms behind himself defeatedly, she did not return the phrase.

“Goodnight, Julian,” she said instead.

She cupped one hand to his cheek, her fingertips lightly grazing his earlobe, and he felt more affection, openness, and _trust_ with her in that moment than he ever had before.  

“And I didn’t really mean that,” she continued, as she turned to go.  “You’re not like Shakaar at all.”


	7. Multiple Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to satisfy FOUR prompts at once: quickie, face-sitting, religious kink, and obedience.

In the following months, Julian tapered off his visits to the O’Briens’ home, and the nature of these changed dramatically.  He would often join them for dinner, but that would be all. They would still talk, sometimes, and Miles would see him at work and afterward for games of darts or trips to the holosuite, but it was not quite the same.  The distance was as strange as it was mutually sought, and Keiko did her best to keep the other two on truly friendly terms, calling one on the other’s behalf when moods were especially low.

Julian was almost relieved to find them as friends and allies, _family,_ again, when his history of genetic modifications came to light.  Perhaps the only pleasant part of the ordeal was finding he was still welcome in their home, in their arms, as he confided in Miles and found himself accommodated despite his differences.  It would have been nice to be treated this way as a child, he thought bitterly, and Miles and Keiko each squeezed tight to one of his hands while he said this aloud.

“They were prepared to lie to me all my life,” Julian mumbled, voice finally breaking after years of bearing this burden, “if I hadn’t found out myself, I--  they didn’t _need to do this_.”

“No,” Miles agreed.

“You didn’t need to forgive them,” Keiko said.  “Saying it was for your own good doesn’t make it right.”

“And it isn’t true, anyway,” Miles added.  “If you ask me, it was just selfish, nothing more.”

Julian thought about this, and said nothing; he was unsure, himself.

Only a few weeks later, Nerys made time to go to Bajor to see Shakaar, having bolstered her strength with more discussions with Julian, as well as some with Miles and Keiko.  She went into it bravely, from a position of strength, but Shakaar still managed to unsettle her with a question, which she recounted privately when she returned to the station.

“He said it wouldn’t change his feelings for me - he wants to stay friends - but he wishes _I_ told him sooner that I was ‘interested in women.’  What did he expect me to say to _that_?”

“That you _are_ ,” Julian said, when she told him.

“Well.  He never seemed to care for either of us, anyway,” Miles said, when she told him and Keiko, the following night.

“I’m sure he was jealous,” Nerys observed.  “But he didn’t have to say it _like that_ .  He _knew_ about the shuttle accident, and Yoshi, and that I’ve been living here with you, and-- he had to make me sound _selfish_ , and… like he was trying to protect me?”

“You don’t need his protection,” Keiko said, supportively.

“And what’d you say?” Miles asked, more interested in the technical details, for the time being.

“Nothing.  It’s not _true_ , but I didn’t want to stand there and argue.  I got back on the runabout.”

“Direct action,” Miles said.  “ _Nice._ ”

Keiko and Miles did not want to argue the avenues of her attraction either, but at least their decision came from a position of genuine support, and not debate for the sake of self-preservation.  Miles thought about Julian and Garak, and winced, trying to disguise this as some sudden pain in his shoulder.

“That’s alright,” he said, when Keiko and Nerys both rushed to rub it, “I’ll stop by the Infirmary sometime tomorrow.”

***

Garak was another individual who had not insisted on a distance from Julian after his augmentation became public knowledge.  It had come about somewhat naturally, though, on its own; as Garak saw uncomfortable similarities in Julian, he had stopped wanting to examine more closely.  He had proof enough, and did not like additional excuses to wallow in his own past.

They still shared meals, sometimes, and Garak would drop by the Infirmary, or he would find Julian on his way home from an Ops shift, but they would not talk nearly as much.  The pretense had mostly fallen away from their discussions, now, so it was more comfortable for both of them when such matters were kept brief. It was rather too much like looking in a mirror, at this point, without the chance to preen.

Julian felt guilty about it, and was no longer so dismissive of Garak’s invitations, on the rare occasions they came.  He was happy to come over late at night when Garak could not sleep, to sit beside him and read, to take care of the flowers in Garak’s quarters when he made some excuse about arthritis of his wrists and fingers, which none of Julian’s scans could verify.  Then he would say he had endured an especially trying day in his shop, and could hardly hold his needle straight by the end of it, and Julian would accept this as true in record time. Sometimes he fell asleep there, alone on the sofa.

This was a secret easily kept by Garak, who would deny it so profusely that Julian thought, once or twice, that he had dreamed up these scenarios.  But eventually, Garak conceded, albeit indirectly. He arranged a private consultation with Julian at work, in search of nonaddictive medication for the pain he was suffering from.  The level of trust backing this decision made Julian feel positively radiant, and like there was some unique element of intimacy to their relationship, after all, even if they did not _talk_ as often.

They were due to meet late in the afternoon, as Julian’s final appointment of the day, so there was no rush to reach a final decision.  

Around his usual lunchtime, Julian retired to his office, planning to sort through some paperwork while he ate.  His door chimed to signal a visitor, and he happily admitted Miles into the room.

“Miles!  Hello,” he beamed, while Miles internally cursed himself for finding the enthusiasm _charming_.

“Hey.  You talked to Nerys recently?”

Julian glanced up from his screen and drummed his fingers along the tabletop.

“Not… _very_ recently.  Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no.  She was over last night, telling us about her breakup with Shakaar.”

“Ah,” said Julian, in a way he clearly adopted from Garak. “Yes, I did hear about that.”

“She says you _told her_ about that.  Like advised her, or something.”

“I wanted to be a good friend,” Julian said firmly.  “It sounded like it went all right, to me…”

“Oh sure, sure, fine,” Miles muttered, “It just got me thinking.”

“...Is something wrong?” Julian repeated, taking a more intent look at Miles’s expression.  

“I miss you,” Miles admitted, voice barely above a whisper, and he had bargained sufficiently with himself to even get it to that volume.

“I miss you, too,” Julian agreed, more casually.  “I’m _so_ grateful we’ve been able to work through this _fairly decently_ , and--”

“Nerys said you told her to be direct.”

“Yes, well.  That’s best, isn’t it?”

“If you say so,” Miles sighed, pained at how long Julian had taken to commit to this lesson, how long he had struggled to express his feelings this way, himself.  

He turned his head over his shoulder, verifying the door was sealed and locked to Julian’s vocal confirmation, only, and then he slipped his hand nervously into his pocket.

“Miles…” Julian said, watching, as Miles fixed his eyes over him once more.

From his pocket, Miles removed a neatly-wrapped condom, and tossed it down to the table.  Julian’s gaze did not follow it, but he could guess what it was, anyway; he only stared down at it when Miles began to speak again, in confirmation.

“I want you to fuck me,” Miles said, in that same quiet voice.

Julian blinked, and answered indirectly.

“I-I’ve an appointment in… in about thirty minutes, and… we… _you_?  You’re sure?”

Miles bit his lip and nodded.

***

“Are you sure you’re going to see Julian about your arm?” Keiko asked, watching Miles roll his shoulder back and forth in front of their bathroom mirror.  “And not somewhere _else_?”

“Keiko!” he said, surprised at just how accurate her accusation was.

“That’s okay.  I was on my way out to _comfort_ Nerys after her breakup.”

“So, the same kind of thing, then?”

“Maybe,” she said, kissing his cheek.  “But those sound like better lunch plans than either of us _usually_ have.”

He quirked a brow at her, but allowed her to leave without further intervention.

Keiko went directly to Nerys’s cabin, and stood outside the door while it chimed repeatedly.

“ _Hang on_ ,” Nerys called, from inside.

“I can wait,” Keiko leaned in and spoke against the door, her voice friendly and genuine.

“Oh, _Keiko!_  Come on in, it’s fine.”

At this signal, the door slid open, and Keiko stepped inside.  She found Nerys finishing a prayer, smoke wafting up from below her chin, where she had just extinguished her stick of incense.  Originally, she had been on her knees in front of the altar, but the door chime had somewhat spooked her - her first assumption was always that some tragedy required her to return immediately to duty - so she was crouching, now, and bowing her head.

Out of respect, Keiko did not voice the way this particular position made her feel.  She stood at a polite distance and waited for Nerys to finish what was a truly beautiful, lyrical devotion before they greeted one another.

“How are you doing?” Keiko asked, as they broke apart from their customary embrace.

“Oh, fine.  It… wasn’t meant to be.”

Keiko considered the sweet and vaguely solemn nature of the chanting she had just heard, and took this sentiment to heart.

“If it helps,” Keiko said, “I think you made the right decision.”

“So do I,” Nerys nodded, and took a sharp breath in, “and so do the Prophets.”

Rather than let this devalue her stance, Keiko felt vindicated.  She knew how she had been mentioned in the terms of the separation, how her romantic involvement and _encouragement_ came as a surprise only to Nerys, who had been more willing to discuss and be seen with Miles.  That was to be expected, and then she began speaking more freely about how she was carrying _his_ child, while letting herself feel more strongly bonded to Keiko, at the same time.  It had not seemed like attraction to Nerys then; it only finally registered _now_.

“Does that mean we should celebrate?” Keiko asked, a coy look in her eyes.

***

Julian had rarely felt so _wanted_.  He had felt needed, and loved, but never so desirable to someone who knew him well; plenty of strangers would comment on his looks, but this was _Miles_ , and it meant more than that.

They wasted little time.

Miles had arrived from home, and was dressed accordingly.  It was easy enough for him to loosen and lower his trousers just enough for Julian’s convenience, and Julian swept aside the stack of padds and chips from his desk while Miles worked somewhat too hastily at preparing himself.

Julian had modified the door lock’s current program, so it would open only to the application of his handprint, as a precaution.  Then he ordered a medical-grade lubricant from his private synthesizing machine, and helped Miles along, bending him over the clean tabletop and working his fingers inside gently.

“And what gave you _this_ idea?” Julian teased, nudging Miles’s own hand away so he could work uninterrupted.

“Lotta things,” Miles groaned, continually embarrassed at himself.  “Jealousy, mostly.”

“ _Jealousy_?”

“I don’t want a lecture,” Miles said.

“I can see that.”

When Julian was satisfied with his preparation, he let his fingers wander forward, splaying and twisting lightly over Miles’s shaft.  He had not even thought about undoing his own uniform, yet, and sighed impatiently as he reached up to undo the zipper that ran up the back of his neck.  The undershirt could stay, probably, but it would leave a corresponding amount of him feeling _embarrassed_ , like he was breaking a rule.

“I don’t want you all smug about it, ether,” Miles added, in response to the too-light touches.  

Julian slouched and rustled his shoulders free of the grey quilting, and continued debating whether or not to pull off his shirt, too.  With his unoccupied hand, he shoved the jumpsuit down past his waist, before doing the same to his underwear. Miles clawed forward, reaching for the condom, but Julian leaned over him, kissed his temple, and picked it up on his own.  This was… _exciting_.

“Do you… do this very often?” Julian asked, beginning to tease himself, rushing.  “I didn’t expect you’d enjoy it, to be honest…”

Julian thought about some of his discussions with Keiko, much earlier in the establishment of their relationship.  Back then, when Miles described _jealousy_ , it was because certain individuals or activities made him feel insufficiently suited to Keiko, to fulfilling his _wife_.  This was, of course, untrue, but Julian thought what they were about to do would fall fairly high on the list.

Miles shrugged and mumbled something about Keiko keeping ‘more toys than just the Cardassian one, thank you.’

“...but I don’t make a habit of it,” Miles said.  “What about you? I seem to remember you saying _you_ didn’t enjoy this at _all_.”

Julian recalled this lie, and tried to continue without pausing enough for Miles to lose confidence; he was thankful Miles could not see his face, because his expression was anything but convincing.

“Oh, well… with the right partner, I _can_ enjoy it,” Julian kept decent control over his voice, as he unrolled the condom over himself.

Miles chuckled, “So _now_ I’m the right partner, huh?”

If Miles was jealous, Julian thought, it could only be of Garak.  And if he was going to argue, and step in muddy puddles of old lies and disagreements under the umbrella of attraction, and--

“I don’t think you’re in a place to argue with me, really,” Julian countered.  “You need to _relax_.”

He had no choice but to concede to this, making a conscious effort to loosen his posture, letting the table brace his weight, trying not to move when he felt the head of Julian’s cock pressing against his entrance.  Julian’s movements were slow, and Miles groaned at all of them, every little twitch and half-executed thrust, while Julian steadied himself. He leaned over to grip Miles’s shoulder - the one Miles had pretended to injure, the previous night - and whispered to him.

“You need to listen to me very carefully, and do _exactly_ what I say.”

As exciting as this was, and as attractive as Julian felt, he had to accept several realities.  Foremost, he could not deal with a mess on his desk before an appointment with Garak, of all people, nor could he explain away a certain amount or quality of noise.  He also realized - and it was one of his _favorite_ things to realize - that Miles needed _his help_ to keep from getting hurt accidentally.  This was no time for either of them to be careless, least of all Julian.

“Bring your hips up and back,” Julian instructed.

 _Carefully_ , he tightened his hold around Miles’s penis, ensuring he was not stifled by the desk.  Miles nodded, made a noise than began as an agitated sigh and ended as a moan, and propped himself up on his elbows, to ease all of Julian’s access.

***

Nerys had no objections to being intimate beside her altar, in this case and this case alone.  Her prayer had been in search of guidance, a request for sealing off a relationship that served no benefit to the Prophets.  And, as Keiko kissed her fiercely and undressed her and began to direct her movements, Nerys felt decidedly _unlike_ a Bajoran woman; a bit of spiritual guidance could not hurt.

She did not know _how_ she felt, and was reduced to expressing herself quietly, in mumbled pleas and wet, sloppy kisses.  In some way, Keiko took her power, but Nerys found she did not mind, and did not fight to get it back.  She felt loved and cherished, and was led along _gently_ , but with more passion than she had ever felt from a lover, before.  It was not worth trading away, she was sure of that.

“Nerys?” Keiko’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, where she had corralled herself and rushed in anxious circles, “Nerys, are you _sure_?”

Keiko’s fingers had crept inward from each of Nerys’s thighs, stopping just short of touching her folds.  Nerys was laying on the ground, panting, arching her back and trying to keep her legs spread. The smoke had become thick around them, but it was not enough to cloud Nerys’s thinking, not _really_.

She nodded and pulled herself upward, grasping at Keiko’s arms for support, ensuring all of the necessary sticks of incense were extinguished.  If this was going to be something _sacred_ …

“I’m sure,” she agreed, to a question Keiko had asked _several_ minutes ago.

Keiko grinned encouragingly at her, and dipped two fingers inside, thrusting evenly.  

“A-ahh,” Nerys whined as she adapted to the intrusion.  “That’s, _oh Keiko,_ that’s…”

“Mmm,” Keiko sighed back at her, and paused to roll Nerys’s undergarment out of the way, gracing it slowly over her knees as she helped her to fold them, tugging it off over one ankle at a time.  

She apologized for the absence of her fingers by applying her mouth in their place, and Nerys gave her a louder moan.

“Mmm,” Keiko repeated, “ _just like that_.”

Nerys shuddered and rocked her hips, straining to see the cooling smoke as it swirled past.  Her neck tensed as she drove her chin down at her clavicle, trying to see. Keiko watched and relented, and then turned to follow Nerys’s gaze.

“You need to keep an eye on that?” Keiko asked.  “That’s no problem. _Here_ , let me…”

Lowering her body, the top of Keiko’s head almost touched the base of the altar.  She patted her chest and reached out for Nerys, to help guide her into place.

“There you go, just like that,” she repeated.  “Kneel down _right here_.”

Keiko tipped her chin up and licked her lips slowly in indication, and Nerys could only shudder again, as she did as she was told.  Soon, her folds were forcibly spread by her position, and she lowered herself gradually to meet Keiko’s lips, receiving light, reassuring kisses in gratitude.  Keiko kissed along her thighs, first, her hands wrapping around behind and then between them, holding them open gently. In this way, she supported Nerys’s weight and guided her movements, and would keep doing so until she felt more secure.

With her legs spread and held up, Nerys felt nearly weightless.  The smoke from the incense helped, somewhat, and she inhaled the pleasant scent of it while Keiko began to stroke her ridges firmly, expertly with her tongue.  Whenever she gave an audible shiver, Keiko would pause and lift her up enough to speak, and would try to soothe her with her voice. Nerys could hardly hear the words, but the _voice_ Keiko used was calming enough.

“Just move whenever you’re ready,” Keiko assured, whispering to preserve the respectful scene, “I’ll help you; you can’t hurt me.”

“A-a- _ahha_ ,” Nerys tried to speak in affirmation, and Keiko understood well enough.

She helped Nerys to lower herself once more, digging in at the base of her slit and then curling her tongue upward, stroking inner lines of ridging until they flared to meet her.  Whimpering in delight, Nerys recalled her hands, and when she bowed at a certain angle, she could bury them in Keiko’s hair. It enthralled her, so long and soft, and she found Keiko equally willing to have it played with as roughly pulled; this suited Nerys’s inclination toward extremes perfectly.  At first, she played with it, tousling her way inward to Keiko’s scalp, and then she gasped and tugged it sharply, when Keiko suddenly increased the pressure she was providing, from beneath.

WIth encouraging rubs and taps along her thighs from Keiko, Nerys eventually began to roll her hips, forward and back, rubbing her slit into Keiko’s mouth and chin as she passed.  She gave the sweetest, most startled cry Keiko had ever heard, and lowered her posture enough to kiss Keiko’s forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks.

Then, Nerys _felt_ her name being spoken, a hot breath against her folds, and she said Keiko’s with the same reverence as she climaxed.

***

“I thought you had a meeting soon,” Miles observed.

Julian was buried fully inside him, and mostly stationary, pausing to nip and kiss at his neck.  

“I-I do,” he replied after another moment.  “That doesn’t mean I should leave you _miserable_.”

“Huh,” Miles sighed.  “I hadn’t thought about it before, but you probably _could_ last a lot longer than us mere mortals, couldn’t you?”

“Miles, _please_ ,” Julian scolded, because Miles had made a partially accurate observation.

But instead of highlighting his stamina, Julian was keeping a careful eye on the time, and running constant calculations on just _how_ and _when_ to move.  This was more for Miles, anyway, and Julian was determined to be attentive, to make Miles’s attraction feel worthwhile, when all was said and done.  It was nice to _enjoy_ new experiences, Julian believed.

“I need you to get one leg up on the desk, please,” Julian said, in what he thought was a reasonable and friendly voice.

“ _Yes, Sir_ ,” Miles replied sarcastically, unsure of how to feel when Julian _twitched_ inside him.

“Ah… no, let’s not, with that.  Just--”

“Alright.”

Miles bent one knee and hauled it up onto the tabletop, providing Julian with a different angle, and more stability, so he could quicken his pace.  Julian kissed him again for his efforts - Miles _wished_ he could find it irritating instead of endearing - and then tightened his hold on Miles’s hips, holding him steady while he thrusted forward.

“Are you--?” Miles began to ask, gritting his teeth.

“Mmm, almost,” Julian replied, adjusting his grip.  

He found the little rolls of skin and fat at each of Miles’s hips _wonderful_ for holding onto, and wished _very much_ to kiss them.  His chance would present itself, soon enough.

Miles was muffling his own voice into his arm, and Julian admired this forethought.  He had to keep leaning in and pressing his mouth to Miles’s neck, hoping to keep his moans contained to their one intended recipient.  

One of Julian’s hands crept in again, having toyed with Miles’s hip to his own satisfaction, to stroke his cock.  He held it restrictively against Miles’s belly, feeling it dribble and spasm as Miles approached his climax.  It would be too soon.

Julian convinced himself to take some pride in this, and returned to holding Miles’s hips tightly, pulling Miles away from the desk.

“Stand up and turn to face me,” Julian said, withdrawing from his body.

On shaky legs, Miles did so.  Julian held him again, at the waist, and rushed to lower himself with Miles’s weight to support his movement.  It was impossible for Miles _not_ to sit against the desk again, overcome with _bliss_ , when Julian touched his shaft with his nose, then his lips.

“I _know_ ,” Julian said quickly, knowing this was not one of Miles’s favorite intimate activities, “but I don’t want a mess on my hands.”

Miles chuckled at the duality of the meaning, unconcerned with anything else, and touched Julian’s head to offer permission, welcoming him closer.  They had not done this together, in these roles, and Miles found it was not as awkward as he had built it up to be, in his imagination. Julian was perfectly capable, sliding his lips up and his hand down in tandem, bringing Miles to the edge in barely any time at all.  

Julian’s breath was warm around him when he came, gripping the ledge of the desk and rolling his head forward, trying not to cry out too loudly.  

When he opened his eyes again, Julian was standing and peeling off the condom, then trying to settle himself inconspicuously as he pulled his clothing upward again, and began to zip and fasten it into place.  

“Wh-what about you?” Miles stammered only because he was out of breath.

“Oh, er... “ Julian dusted his own shoulder, where he had finished with the main uniform zipper.  “I’ve a meeting in about two minutes.”

He turned and winced to himself as he held his hands under the sanitizing light station in his office, knowing it kept sample readings of every substance it removed.  But he did not voice this; it would change nothing. After he turned his hands over and the procedure was finished, he faced Miles again, grinning at him.

Miles felt _ridiculous_ , sweat pooling on his brow, lips cast open to help him catch his breath, legs trembling intermittently as he tried to stand, face ruddy beyond recognition.  Meanwhile, Julian had the barest hint of sweat along his temples - ruffling his hair and somehow making him look _more_ appealing - his lips were glossy, his cheeks were gently rouged, and he was already dressed.

“You’re _ridiculous_ ,” Miles said to him, fondly, dressing and showing himself out.  


	8. Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter satisfies the prompt Dirty Talk and, if you let me cheat just a little, Untouched Orgasm. And is finally garashir 
> 
> :)

Miles ducked against the wall as he passed Garak in the corridor, just outside of the Infirmary.  Garak gave a split-second of curiosity to the man’s posture and the way he carried himself, then looked forward with Miles feeling suspicious, but having no proof of indiscretion.  Oh, but Garak knew enough. He did not _need_ to have his senses assaulted when he _did_ arrive inside the Infirmary, where the attending nurse cautiously took his vitals and forwarded them to Julian’s terminal for review before showing Garak into the private office.

 Regardless, the assault came.  Garak was already unhappy about resorting to a medical appointment which might actually _fix_ some of his ailments, in order to see Julian privately.  But the room reeked of exertion, only worsened when the door slid shut behind him, and Julian was fidgeting nervously in his seat, only stopping when Garak’s eyes caught his.

“We can take as much time as you need,” Julian assured, gesturing forward until Garak sank into the opposing seat.  “Very good.”

Julian swept a stack of padds into the empty center of the desk and called up Garak’s readings on a transparent screen, so they could view them together; it was largely unnecessary to try to keep secrets from Garak about his own body.  Untold by the readings, Garak suffered occasional hallucinations, frequent and profoundly painful headaches, prolonged nausea, and tinnitus in certain areas of his shop and quarters. The readings, though, conveyed his pulse, his breathing patterns, and his endorphin production, which Bashir had monitored on and off for years; he could work out some of these side effects, from here, which Garak knew and had tried to avoid.

“Now,” Julian began in his most professional tone, “the series I’d like to start you on is non-addictive and should counteract the chronic pain you are experiencing in your wrists.  I’d just like to ask some preliminary questions, so we can work out if this is the best option for you, alright?”

“Certainly, Doctor,” Garak answered impatiently, and begrudgingly.  “Although I hardly think I am in severe enough pain to require--”

“Hold your arms forward,” Julian said.

He caught Garak’s wrists over the table, on either side of the holographic chart, and _tenderly_ bent one backward, stopping at the precise moment Garak hissed.

“No, not severe enough to come and see me,” Julian teased, massaging the place he had overextended, then releasing his hold again.  “You’re right, you could’ve put this off another five years, if you wanted to.”

“I expected we were going to _talk_ ,” Garak said, bending his other wrist backward in the same fashion, but keeping himself quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Julian said, taking a mental step backward, “you’re just here to _talk to me_?”

“For ‘as much time as I need,’” Garak quipped, clearly agitated.

“Did I do something wrong?  You don’t need to set up an appointment to _talk to me_ , Garak, I’m your _friend_.”

“You have been unusually _busy_ , lately, I’ve noticed.”

In determination, Julian stared down at his padd, opening a new field for Patient Notes at the bottom of the current file.  He wondered how much jealousy he was going to diagnose and treat, today.

“I’d rather you show up at my quarters unannounced than lie about your health,” Julian said, which was true for several salacious reasons.  “Now, it’s _clear_ you need some kind of medical intervention, so _please_ try to answer my questions honestly, so I can _help you_.”

Garak settled back in his chair and crossed his hands on the tabletop.  With acute awareness this was for Garak’s benefit as much as his own, Julian picked up his professional tone again.  Something may have shown through his facial expression, pleasantly exhausted as he was, but his voice was steady.

“How much sleep do you get, on average?”

“That’s a highly personal question, Doctor,” Garak countered.

“It _really_ isn’t.  

“You’re right; it’s _indecent_.  Regardless of my answer, you would work out some inappropriate explanation for the rest of my evenings’ activities, and--”

“Inappropriate?  Garak, you’re… being ridiculous.”

“Am I?  If I were to ask about _your_ sleeping arrangements, you would not find that offensive?”

Garak’s wrists genuinely _were_ irritating him, now, as were several other recurring ailments, and the fact he had lost Julian’s attention to _Miles O’Brien_ did not make him feel any better.  He squeezed his hands together, hard, and stared forward.

“This isn’t about me,” Julian tried to redirect the situation calmly.  “And if I were about to be put on an entirely new series of _antidepressant sleep-aids_ , I’d answer the question outright!”

“Four,” Garak supplied an untrue figure, which Julian did not bother to type out.

Julian rolled his eyes, pained at Garak’s refusal, and struggled onward.  He genuinely _did_ want to help, and he _did_ care about Garak, perhaps more deeply than could be considered wise.

“Any unusual changes in appetite?” he asked, next.

“Hmm,” said Garak, “yes.  I have a much more difficult time adhering to a schedule when you continually postpone our luncheons.”

“ _Garak_ ,” Julian said, warningly. “This is not about _me_.”

“It most _certainly_ is.”

Julian set the padd down entirely, and bravely matched Garak’s gaze. 

“You are my _patient_ right now, and I expect you to behave with _some_ professionalism, and let me conduct this appointment.”

“Professionalism?” Garak’s laugh was biting, “do your _patients_ often leave with worse limps than they arrive with?”

A not-so-small part of him _hoped_ so, and was delighted when Julian stood, cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, and stared down at him.

“Why are you _set_ on making this so difficult?” Julian demanded.

Garak’s wrists were throbbing, now, and the self-imposed shrilling in his ears tricked him into believing his bones were creaking against each other, that he was old and _useless_ , commanding no respect or affection whatsoever.   _Failing_ utterly.

“I did try to warn you about this whole thing,” Garak said, vaguely implying Julian’s relationship with the O’Briens, “and you won’t pay _any_ attention to me whatsoever.”

Julian sighed.  Maybe this was a true statement from Garak’s lips, but not from Julian’s imagination.  If only Garak _knew_ how often Julian’s mind ticked over to him, _defaulted to him_ , held him close and lavished him with affection.  

And then, as Julian took his seat and tried again to cross his legs, it occurred to him: Garak would know if Julian _told him_.

“I’m not sure why I’m surprised,” Julian said, “but that couldn’t be further from the truth.  I think about you all the time.”

“You have a disappointing method of showing it,” Garak replied, sarcastic and unhappy.  “There I was, genuinely concerned about your safety, knowing you were… in bed with people I _know_ did not match that feeling...”

Julian would dispute the sleight on Miles and Keiko at another time; there were other, more pressing arguments on his mind now.

“And _when I was in bed with them_ , Garak, I was…” he grew very quiet, but continued matching Garak’s stare, “...I was imagining I was _with you_.”

“Don’t try to indulge me,” Garak said, “you are a _dreadful_ liar.”

“I’m not lying.  I would… I would _honestly_ imagine you were _inside me_.  Keiko has this insertable device for--”

Garak knew, with liars as _dreadful_ as Julian, that details did not come easily, so he held up his hand in surrender.  For a brief moment, Julian panicked, and shut his eyes in refusal of reality; he must have said too much.

“ _That_ is indecent,” Garak said quietly.  

Julian’s breath caught in his throat, and he only reopened his eyes when he heard Garak leaning forward against the desk, laying out both of his arms and casually observing his fingernails.

“And - I’m fairly certain - inaccurate,” Garak concluded, at a whisper.

“Oh, you don’t know the _half_ of it,” Julian replied, still uneasy, but thankful his forwardness had not resulted in immediate rejection, as he was typically accustomed to.

“Oh?  Then won’t you enlighten me?”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Blinking and touching his own chin in his best rendition of ‘surprised,’ Garak considered this.

“My _dear_ ,” he said, “I have been _quite obviously_ indicating my _interest_ for several years now, and had almost given up.”

Julian felt foolish, and slightly frustrated, but this only served to heighten his arousal.  He stared evenly at Garak, across the table, and brought his own arms up to match. Rather than blame himself for possibly being naive, Julian chose to deride Garak’s definition of ‘obviously.’

“I wouldn’t say _that_.”

“We could debate this several years more,” Garak said, trilling his fingers dismissively, “ _or_ you could explain to me how your feelings have matched, all along.”

“Oh, _now_ you want to talk…?”

“I want to listen, with such rapt attention as I have rarely given to anyone.”

Holding aside his swiveling chair, Julian stood and stepped further into Garak’s space.  This was _strange_ , as they both were taking control of the situation, but clearly felt unsuited; perhaps this was why their progression had taken so long.  But Julian had learned the method and the benefits of being _direct_ , and was not about to disappoint now.

“I almost _always_ fantasized I was with you,” Julian said, then cleared his throat.  “The insertable device was a stationary one, ridged on the underside, about sixteen centimeters…”

“Was it, indeed?” Garak interrupted, amused, “I’m sorry, _do_ go on.”

“Not until I have that _rapt attention_ of yours,” Julian shrugged, looking unaffected, and offered one hand forward.  “If you interrupt again, I want your jacket _off_ and in my hand.”

Garak grinned at the small and entirely performative sliver of power this afforded him; he would interrupt if and when he wanted to remove an item of clothing, and he would listen intently.  Slipping his fingers inside one of the contrasting panels on his coat, he began to unclasp a row of hidden buttons, apologizing in advance before he spoke.

“I had _no idea_ you expected such sudden realization of that fantasy of yours.”

He deposited the first article - only his sleeves and a panel that crossed his shoulders and back to bridge them - in Julian’s hand, and set to unfastening the line of hooks which ran down either side of his chest.  Julian rolled his eyes, but his expression remained otherwise fond, as he realized just how many _pieces_ Garak’s wardrobe involved today, perhaps every day.  In any case, Garak could interrupt several more times while remaining modest.

“We began in the shower, _you and I_ ,” Julian recalled the experience, and substituted Garak into place, “and I helped you to prepare me.”

“I’m afraid _we_ would not be able to enjoy a shower _together_ ,” Garak said, on the edge of a shiver, opening his shirt and shrugging both arms out of it.

Julian snapped this up, too, and set both articles he had gathered on his desk, causing the holographic display to glitch and flicker around them until lapsing into standby mode and going completely dark.  

“Then, we went into the bedroom, after using up all the hot water.”

“How _bland_ ,” Garak mumbled, removing his flocked undershirt and baring his chest at last.

Reluctantly, Julian had to concede; it was rather boring, for a _fantasy._   He decided to enliven it, with the hope it would still lure Garak into bickering.  

“There was a hot spring, as well.  Maybe I would take you to a sauna.”

“Would you, or wouldn’t you,” Garak said flatly.  “I’ve waited rather a long time.”

He slipped one hand into his loosened belt and tugged it free from the inside, and leaned forward enough to drape it over the edge of Julian’s desk without assistance.  

“The _finest_ sauna on Cardassian soil,” Julian decided.  “We’d go in secret.”

Now, Garak’s fingers crept to his waistband without prompting, and he stretched the lining and unhooked the inner closures.  Remaining in his seat, his breathing became labored as he squirmed to lower his trousers. He felt the cool, sterile air more clearly against the thin undergarment he still wore.  But he was waiting to take it off until Julian’s story reached the proper point…

“We would warm up on the stones,” Julian continued, reaching up for the zipper behind his neck, feeling left out, “and I would lay back and let you have your way with me.”

He incorrectly assumed Garak wanted a power fantasy.  The only correction Garak gave, this time, was done in silence, as he slid his undergarment down with some effort, peeling it off of his skin and rolling it down, one leg at a time, kicking off his shoes and tugging away his socks before it could be removed completely.  He had everted a good while ago, when Julian optimistically began the story, and now his length was cradled gently against the cushion of the desk chair, and fluid was smeared along his thighs and dribbling down to his knees.

Julian looked at him with curiosity, and kindness.

“I would _graciously_ accept your eleven centimeters,” Julian said, with a chuckle, while Garak pouted at him.

“I… suppose…” Garak said this intentionally slowly, looking down at himself and reinforcing the fact he had no other clothing to strip off.

Julian stood over him, near him, and glanced down, wanting desperately to touch.  The curve of Garak’s cock was dramatic, considering its limited length, and he found the width and numerous ridges appealing.  These had become flared and raised in Garak’s arousal, and Julian told himself this would feel even _nicer_ than the toy and his imagination had.  He had no basis for comparison, among other Cardassians, so he remained quiet, out of fear of being insulting; Garak would not let him live _that_ down, especially if they were to enter into a relationship of this kind.  And they would not do that, if Julian said something wrong.

“May I touch you?” Julian asked _directly_ , one hand hovering around Garak’s _chuva_.

“Nnnhh--” Garak sighed indecisively, and stared.

“May I--” Julian began to repeat himself, until Garak interrupted with a fervent nod.

“Yes.  Yes, you may.  Please.”

Gently, Julian reached forward, swiping two fingers carefully through the puddle of slick, before touching the very tip of Garak’s cock.  The ridges ran up the sides but ceased at the head, and Julian thumbed the unguarded flesh softly.

“Is that fully extended?” Julian asked in a professional tone, not wanting to tease.

Looking away and folding his lips together, Garak gave a stiff nod.  Julian continued rubbing the ridges, mesmerized, lost in thought.

“Mmm,” he sighed after a while, and Garak copied the sound almost immediately.  “Do you… want to, Garak?”

Garak still would not look at him directly, until Julian gambled on calling him ‘Elim’ instead.  Even then, his eyes flickered avoidantly, and he tipped his chin into the most subtle of nods.

“I want _you_ to,” Garak corrected, glancing promptly at the floor.

“Hmm?” Bashir asked, merely inverting the sound he made previously.  “You want me to _what_ , Elim?  Penetrate you?”

Garak made a strangled sound and nodded more detectably, while Julian reached compulsively to touch himself, suddenly remembering he was aroused while at the same time forgetting he was still clothed.  He fussed more with the zipper on his shirt and crossed his arms over himself to pull at the heavily padded shoulders of his uniform. It felt very warm, all of a sudden.

“Alright, Elim,” he said slowly, returning his hand to the cushion, waiting for permission to breach Garak’s slit with his finger.  

Inside, the cloaca was cool and slick, and thoroughly self-lubricated.  Julian stroked along internal scales and reached the base of the cavity with ease.  He had added a second finger - the width was far greater than the depth - but needed to remove both to draw any kind of answer from Garak.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Julian decided, wiping his fingers on his uniform and immediately shaking his head at the stain this might make.  

He dusted his hand over the wet patch, only serving to extend it, and shrugged and stepped over to his cleaning station, holding his soiled hand beneath the light panel until it was dry and disinfected.  Being direct was no good if he could not _think_ before he acted.

“That is… admirable,” Garak managed to speak when Julian was not facing him.  “But unnecessary, I’m _sure_.  I don’t subscribe to the same... xenophilic drivel that you do, with your insertable devices.”

Still facing his station, Julian grinned and quirked a brow, wondering if he was about to genuinely catch Garak off guard.

“Oh, good, good,” Julian said, “so long as I’m not _just_ here to fulfill an alien fantasy of yours.”

“My dear,” Garak replied, “I _only_ fantasize about _Cardassia_ , and her people.”

“Is that so?”

Julian turned to find Garak touching himself, cupping himself in one hand and gently prodding the side-ridges with his fingernails.  When he bent his wrist up in a certain way, he tried to hide a wince, and Julian watched him, considering his prescription with a new sense of amusement.

“Are you sexually active?” Julian teased, leaning over his padd of appointment questions, and tugging his suit down enough to rest, rumpled, around his waist.  

Garak groaned and removed his hand.  He folded both together near his knees, to disguise their trembling.  By now, his slit was pulsing and continuing to leak fluid steadily. Leaning back in the chair did not help, and only forced him to widen his slit.  He was indulging in nothing other than an alien fantasy, imagining himself being filled in a way he had not been able to enjoy in years, and it took him a good deal of effort to speak at a steady volume and normal tone.

“That _is_ a personal question, my dear,” Garak answered.

“My mistake.”

Julian was sorting through his desk with his eyes; he knew Miles had only brought the single condom, but it did not stop him looking around hopefully.  He shrugged to himself and turned to the synthesizing machine for postcoital injections, which were better than nothing. With a giggle he could not completely suppress, he inputted their designations into the ‘involved species’ field, and watched the fabrication occur on the platform.  He turned to Garak again, when it was finished, setting the swabs down on the table and explaining how they would be used, how Julian was not willing to _not_ use them, and giving a final warning that he had no intention of letting Garak hurt himself.

“Have you had penetrative sex with another male Cardassian, before?” Julian asked, leaning over his seat and loosening the zipper that cinched the waistline of his uniform. 

Garak was not in a place to lie, because it was such a simple question, with only one possible outcome.

“Yes,” he said, somewhat disappointedly.

“As the receiving partner,” Julian continued.

“...Yes.  Surely that is what you meant the first time...?”

Julian finally finished stepping out of his uniform, hanging it haphazardly over the back of his chair, ensuring the combadge would not activate itself by touching either of them, and nothing more.  Garak watched him longingly, studying the taut curve of his underwear, the precise way Julian touched himself through the fabric…

Garak whimpered, and Julian’s eyes flicked up to him.

“Humans are, um--” Julian began an explanation, which Garak promptly cut off.

“More… generously endowed... than I was led to believe.”

“Led to believe by _whom_?” Julian teased.  “Not by _me_.”

“I… I _want_ ,” Garak said.

Julian paused his motion altogether, for the pleasure of watching Garak pant and squirm in his chair, restrained by nothing but his propriety.  He was hoping to see this crumble, and would help it along in any way he could.

“There is a _very real_ possibility this will hurt you,” Julian said calmly.  “And if it does, I’m going to stop _immediately_.”

Garak went on nodding, biting his lip to suppress all manner of needy sounds, and widening his stance until the armrests forbade further movement.  Meanwhile, Julian agreed to the eager showing of consent - he felt the same excitement, but knew to be _careful_ \- and rolled off his undershirt, first, allowing Garak to become acquainted with his skin, and then, finally, he stepped out of his underwear.

“Now, just… that’s good, Elim, hold yourself open…”

Julian took a partial step forward, playing through different possible positions in his head, calculating all of them _much_ too precisely, to heighten pleasure and improve the angle of penetration.  Garak looked back at him through bleary eyes, reaching forward and grasping for his shoulders, feeling the warm, supple skin beneath his own.  He caught a brief, flashing vision of hair, tightly curled and rough, and he felt it brush against his belly, and he heard something about ‘ _eighteen centimeters_ ,’ and he climaxed without any further touch.

Then Julian backed away, grinning fondly, feeling some of Garak’s cool, thick fluid catching along his inner thighs.  He stood far enough away for Garak to see him, and to mumble out a string of broken apologies, stopping every time Julian pumped his own length.

“Shh, shh,” Julian tried to soothe him, “that’s _alright_.”

He imagined this was the same sort of half-irritation Miles had felt with him and his preferences, earlier on.  But he was determined to remain calm and nurturing, afraid of making Garak feel insufficient or worse, undesirable. _He_ had wanted Garak, and he _still did_.

“It would… er, Elim, look at me,” he said, waiting for their eyes to meet. “Good.  It would _hurt_ ; you’re oversensitized.”

Garak touched the offending scales apologetically; his slit _certainly_ was, and the rest of the ridges on his body were standing painfully, too.

Julian slowed his movements down and released his cock, leaning in to touch Garak’s shoulders instead.  He massaged the stiff lines of scaling until they began to soften, allowing his hands to move elsewhere.

“Shh, we’ll just have to try again sometime, won’t we?”

“I _want_ …” Garak said again, gesturing at nothing.

“Do you--?” Julian began, but Garak was already slumping down from the chair, onto his knees.

Julian held himself again, out of Garak’s reach.

“Elim, I don’t think that would be any better.”

“Hmm?” Garak asked, settling on his knees.  “Just here, please. I _want_ \--”

He tapped his cheek and shut his eyes, deeply ashamed and seeking this as correction.

“Alright, alright,” Julian chuckled to himself, and tightened his hold, so he could give Garak what he wanted.

While he stroked himself closer to completion, Garak’s hands explored his body, gently parting patches of hair, then latching onto protruding bones.  Garak pressed his forehead into Julian’s thigh, letting the warmth tingle along his _chufa_ before pulling back again.  He was rewarded with the first thread of semen against his cheek, clinging to his orbital ridge before sloping downward.

“H-h-hot,” he said, delighted.

Julian was concerned for a moment, but Garak gripped his waist tightly and held him in place, inviting him to finish over his face and chest.  Garak’s eyes had widened in wonderment, and he allowed Julian to take all of his weight in his arms, hooking his beneath Garak’s and hauling him upward, holding him close.  

“Mmm, Elim,” Julian breathed hotly against Garak’s hair, stroking it.

Garak found he did not mind being forced into such close contact.  It was warm and safe and comfortable, and his palms were flat against Julian’s chest; he could shove himself backward and away if he needed to, as soon as he stopped trembling.  While he waited, to be struck either by claustrophobic compulsion or plain, simple relaxation, he glossed his tongue over his lips, stretching up to touch his ridges, collecting what he could of Julian’s taste.  Julian did not voice any irritation, and considered it a normal enough curiosity, even if it meant he would need to order them new, modified injections, after all.

“Take as long as you need,” he said, patting Garak’s back.

“I had _every right_ to be jealous,” Garak replied.

His hands wandered down from Julian’s chest to rub his hip bones, then his thighs.  He wrapped Julian up tightly in this embrace, feeling most comfortable when Julian stopped touching his hair, allowing him to tip his head out of the enclosed space.  Deeply, and happily, he sighed.

“Although,” Garak went on, “I suppose I don’t know the _half_ of it.”

“That’s true,” Julian said, kissing vaguely at his chin, clasping the little bracket of ridging between his teeth, then releasing it softly from his lips.  


	9. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt Dancing (and Suspension if you'll let me cheat a little)
> 
> And that's it, all done!

Perhaps it was not the ideal item to make his quarters feel more _homey_ , but Julian still took pride in arranging the private section of his bedroom, and setting up the suspension harnesses.  His relationship with Garak was still in its earliest, most _exciting_ stage, where his youthful enthusiasm perfectly countered Garak’s years of suppression.  The two of them found they also shared a great deal of delight in _organization_ , and adhered to a schedule and theme for their intimacy.  Julian may or may not have disguised them as _fantasies_ ; he was genuinely unsure, himself.

He was also looking forward to his first social outing _with_ Garak, later that evening.  Quark’s was hosting a reception for a visiting Vulcan delegation, and had billed the event as a _party_ to improve sales; Starfleet officers and some Bajoran militia personnel were expected to attend anyway.  Vulcans were a reliable source of curiosity, and Garak had spent the preceding weeks hard at work on modifying dress uniforms and formal wear for officers and civilians alike.  His wrists genuinely hurt - it did not help that he often skipped one or two or _all_ of his prescribed daily doses of medication - and he had no interest in doing anything a Vulcan would describe as ‘dancing.’

Sharing neither of these hangups, Julian perched one hand on Garak’s shoulder, leaning in close to speak to him, as they met in the corridor of the habitat ring and proceeded to the bar.

“I’m really looking forward to this,” Julian said.  

“A Vulcan peace assembly?” Garak shrugged.

“Well.  That’s great news, obviously.  But I meant more… going out with _you_.”

Garak knew this already, but bristled his scales to help reinforce the supposition; it was a natural reaction to _shock_ , and one Garak manipulated with ease.

“Oh?” he asked, with a thin smile.  “I’m _flattered_.”

Julian touched one of the affected scales on his partner’s neck, left bare by the unusual cut of his collar.  The suit Garak had selected for himself, tonight, offered a wide view of his neck and shoulders, coming to abrupt closures at the epaulettes, draped with ribbons.  Julian would have called it ‘ridiculous’ several years ago, but now, it was _for him_ , in a way, and it was mesmerizing.

“Such a _sentimentalist_ ,” Julian said, nudging Garak’s arm and then clasping it through his own.  “Who would’ve guessed.”

“I’m not sure this is an ideal time for accusations.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” Julian said, squeezing the anchor scale at Garak’s shoulder.  “We’d better wait until after.”

They found the bar well-lit and crowded, dabo tables hastily-converted into chafing basins, with the center of the room cleared and a trio of lyrists to one side, as promised, for dancing.  Garak looked to the tables sourly as they walked past; many were already occupied to capacity. Considerately, Julian made a mental note of this, and led him along to the banquet area instead, where he collected a single plate for both of them to share from, leaning casually against the bar.

“Oh, if I had recalled the fact Vulcans enforce temperance, I would not have accompanied you at all,” Garak said, frowning at the utter lack of bottles displayed behind the counter, tonight.

“It isn’t universal,” Julian insisted.  “Often, it’s only for _important meetings_ , like this one.”

“I was unaware I was romantically engaged with the Vulcan Consul.”

“Well, in that case, I’d have diplomatic immunity, and I’d get you a glass of wine if you wanted one.”

“Please.”

Garak enjoyed their games very much, and watched happily as Julian bargained with Quark over some Terran drink, returning with a single glass of something peachy and floral.

“Viognier,” said Julian, purely to see if Garak would roll his eyes; he did, immediately.

“If it’s emotional distraction they are seeking to mitigate,” Garak said, eager to be right about _something_ , “I do not see why they would encourage dancing, or play music at all."

“Ah, that’s for our comfort,” Julian said, meaning both ‘human’ and ‘Federation’ by the determinant term.  

“I see.”

“But for _ours_ , I promise not to force you to dance with me.  I’d _like_ you to, but I’m not going to _force_ you.”

“That’s a shame,” Garak said aimlessly, sipping from the wine glass.

Julian turned, raising a brow at him and holding one hand expectantly forward for use of the glass.  

“But, in any case, I am _genuinely_ pleased to be here for the enlightened conversation, even if the setting is a bit _dry_ ,” Garak pressed.

“Dry?” Julian asked, preparing to exercise the cultural expertise Garak was deriding, “Come here, open your mouth.”

As Garak leaned nearer, Julian scooped up one of the ornate canapes from their plate, and slid the whole thing into Garak’s mouth at once, ensuring his fingers caught along Garak’s lips as he withdrew.  Julian pressed his two soiled fingers to his own lips, now, smiling coyly behind them.

He drew them away slowly, but before their act could continue much further, he caught sight of Nerys approaching, with Miles and Keiko a few steps behind.

“Ah,” Garak said, as he observed all of this.

Nerys wore her lavender dress uniform, and regarded Garak with some suspicion as she approached.  Miles, apparently, was easing her way with compliments.

“It’s such a soft color on you,” he said, “lovely, honestly.”

Keiko nudged his arm.

“What?  She wears red _every day_ ,” he said, nodding to indicate the red dress Keiko reserved for special occasions, such as this one.  “Hi, Julian. Care to settle an argument?”

Garak waited patiently to be acknowledged, after Julian had declined the invitation.  

“You seemed like the type to really enjoy this kind’a thing,” Miles observed, sitting down beside Julian and recognizing that Garak had a glass of _wine_.

“Oh, I do.  I’m having a nice time.  Did you… just arrive, yourself?”

The group all regarded one another hesitantly, mentally acting out a predator-livestock-grain puzzle; they did not all want to remain seated together, at the same time, nor could they all disperse and dance.  Miles glanced sideways at Julian, and Garak looked politely but distantly at Keiko and Nerys.

Garak picked up his wine glass - sipping from it slowly - and made it clear he would be remaining exactly where he was.

“We were just… finishing dinner,” Julian explained, gesturing with his still-messy hand to the plate on the table between them.  “There’s no need to wait on our account.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” Miles asked, in a flat voice that somehow contained envy, criticism, and surprise.  He kept them well under control, enough for Julian to assume he was being sarcastic.

“I’m _terribly_ sorry, Chief O’Brien,” Garak said, nodding toward the shared plate in a way he knew Miles would refuse.  “How rude of us; please, feel free to help yourself.”

Miles kept his scoff quiet, and shook his head to decline.  Nerys made a passing comment as she stood up with Keiko, telling Miles he probably had some work to look forward to, if he wanted; she always attended parties with a degree of caution, knowing it was likely she would need to return to work at a moment’s notice.  She and Miles had this in common, and Keiko did her best to relax both of them, looking to Julian, now, for help.

“We’ll be just over there,” Keiko said, touching Miles’s shoulder and pointing to indicate a clear expanse of floor by the lyre section, “having fun without you.”

They kissed, just briefly, chastely, and Julian caught himself staring and wondering if he would ever have anything like _that_ , so comfortable and open.  He cleared his throat and apologized when Miles looked back at him again.

“That’s alright,” Miles said, as he often did.

Purely for his own amusement, Garak took his hands from the table and tucked them away beneath it.  He flared one elbow to the side, as if he were moving, but kept both hands over his own lap, watching Julian’s expressions and then Miles’s, grinning.  But then, because he had seen some sense of palpable, contagious disappointment in Julian’s features when Miles and Keiko had kissed, he moved his hand to rest on Julian’s knee.

Deliberately, Miles kept eye contact with him throughout this, understanding the actions well enough despite the barrier; Julian’s composure had its moments, but for the most part, it hid nothing.

“If you hurt him,” Miles began to say, quoting an ancient and generally teasing sentiment.  

“I intend to protect him,” Garak replied, “and delight him.”

Julian looked back and forth between them, the two individuals he loved most deeply, in their own ways.  It was strange to be referred to as if he was not also present, like he was some inanimate treasure the other two were curating.  And he would have subscribed to that dissociative tendency completely, if not for Garak’s hand on his knee.

Garak squeezed him, digging in his fingers one at a time, and then stood.

“Won’t you dance with me?” Garak asked, extending his arm for Julian to take.

Julian’s eyes gleamed and widened, and he mumbled “yes” several times in a row, to ensure he was heard.  Watching them go, Miles reached for their abandoned wine glass, swishing and sipping it as Garak found an open corner for them to dance in.  He kept scanning the place for Keiko, searching for her particular shade of red in the sea of uniforms.

Instead, and on a slight delay, he noticed Nerys approaching him again, leaning over his shoulder and taking the seat beside him.

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” she observed, following Miles’s gaze outward.

“What, those two?” he tried to say casually.

“Yeah.  A couple weeks ago, and I really thought Julian had matured, you know?  He was so good about the situation with Shakaar, and… I don’t know.”

“Well,” Miles said, snorting, “it’s not like he hasn’t been _obsessed_ with Garak ever since he got here.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Hmm.”

They continued watching together, commenting quietly when Keiko moved across the room from the serving area to the dance-floor.  Garak and Julian had not been _dancing_ by any technical definition Miles was aware of - they were not even pressing their bodies particularly close together.  They were swaying, simply, more or less in time with the tune, with their hands locked firmly to one another’s shoulders.  Keiko caught up with them, touching Julian’s arm gently to get his attention, then remained there for several minutes.

While her smile brightened, Miles and Nerys let theirs fall, inversely, until she returned to the table.  She had filled a communal plate for them, and set out silverware before dragging up a third chair. Tilting the plate slightly, she ensured Miles and Nerys were presented with items they would prefer, specifically.

“Hmm?” Miles said again, as a greeting, taking his fork.

“They seem happy,” Nerys said; the two of them were still grinning at each other and swaying.

“Oh, they are,” Keiko assured.

“Are they,” Miles said flatly, stabbing at his food.

Nerys gave him a sympathetic sigh, before excusing herself to make some routine checks in Ops.  

“I think they’re very well matched,” Keiko went on.  “And you didn’t let him down, Miles; you can stop worrying about that.”

“What about you, though?” he asked.

“What about me, Miles?” she peered at his face, warped as it was through the wine glass.  “You’re worried you’re letting _me_ down?”

He shrugged and chewed his food slowly, trying to postpone answering, but Keiko remained quiet, which was unusual enough to keep his attention.

“You were going on about Julian for _years_ ,” Miles explained.  “And, to be honest, I care a _lot_ about the guy.”

“And he’s one of our best friends, and he’s _happy_.  You think Garak is gonna hurt him, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Deliberately, Keiko reached over his arm to snag a chocolate truffle from their plate.  

“So, maybe you’re part of _that_ problem,” she observed.  “We can have them over for dinner sometime, if it makes you feel better.”

“It wouldn’t.”

“I _really_ only mean dinner, Miles.”

“Still.”

“Julian can make his own decisions, he’s--”

“He’s so _impressionable_ ,” Miles said, bitterly.

“He isn’t.  He’s more stubborn than _you_ are.”

Miles continued peering out at them on the dancefloor, feeling indecisive himself.

“I’ll try not to lose any sleep over it, I guess,” Miles conceded, until Keiko led him out into the crowd.

***

When they played darts again, afterward, things were different.

Foremost, the meetings were less frequent.  It became more difficult to find overlapping gaps in their schedules of more than a few minutes at a time, and this was only furthered by the casual additions of _everyone else_ to their group.  

Miles and Julian did not meet merely for a drink and a game, anymore.  They met for a late dinner with Keiko, coffee with Nerys, dessert with Garak, all in the same night.  Sometimes they would all play a card-game, first, or they would attempt darts in rotating teams. Miles wanted desperately to feel like he had lost something, but he was surrounded by unequivocal gains.  

Then, there was the matter of leveling Julian’s abilities, trying to ensure the game could not be thrown.  They did not base their decisions on it anymore, not for dinner or holoprograms or anything else. Miles started, jokingly, by abstaining from drinking and offering Julian both helpings of ale at once.  This approach did not last long; Miles did not like to _not_ be drinking on his nights off, and Julian insisted it really would not make much difference to his coordination anyway, and he would rather not be seen like that by any of his patients prior to appointments.  

Nerys ensured they had more space in line with the dartboard, so Julian could throw from farther away.  He still felt like a spectacle, then, but it worked for a few weeks. Then, Keiko would try distracting him in the last moment before he threw, touching his arm or calling away his attention.

This led Garak to the acceptable conclusion: providing a blindfold.

“Garak, you’re playing winner,” Miles reminded the entire table, one night.

Julian was still an acceptable player with his eyes covered, and found himself compensating by listening for the volume of the impact to gauge where the dart had hit, then aiming accordingly on the following two throws.  Acceptable, but beatable, and Miles took full advantage.

“I believe I did agree to that, yes,” Garak said.  He and Keiko had shared an enlightening discussion on Bajoran vegetation, as well as a partial bottle of springwine, which Nerys had also taken a serving of.

Julian was still in a good mood after losing, and went to sit at the table, feeling the backs of the seats until he reached the empty one beside Garak.  He reached forward and caught Garak’s hand by mistake, as Garak prepared to unfasten his blindfold.

Miles made a point of not asking where it came from, just as Garak made every insinuation much too obvious.  When it had been removed, he cupped Julian’s cheek in his hand and they observed one another fondly.

“Garak,” Miles said again, still facing the board, “you’re--”

“Yes, I’m aware.  I must apologize for taking my time,” he added, speaking directly to Julian.

And Julian, knowing they had already made their own private plans for later in the night, accepted, kissed Garak’s hand, and nudged him up out of his seat.  


End file.
